


hazard, daryl dixon.¹

by dewitts



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: F/M, Slow Burn, darley, it gets intense, mentions of domestic abuse and rape, people also ship her with shane, v e r y slow burn, very unedited
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-02-06
Updated: 2016-10-12
Packaged: 2018-05-18 14:39:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 60
Words: 159,347
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5932006
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dewitts/pseuds/dewitts
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>sometimes, the world doesn't need another hero. sometimes, what it needs is a monster.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. pusillanimous

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NOTE | this book is majorly unedited - not until they get to the farm is, in my opinion, when it only just starts getting good. So I apologise in advance for my fetus writing.
> 
> There are things about this book and Marley that somehow don't make sense but when I come back and edit everything; it will be much better.
> 
> this book is under the protection of the #marleyvanallendefensesquad

The way she worked was organised. Precise. Get in, Get out.

There was no room in her work for mistakes. You had to do, what you had to do. Even if it was in a humiliating manner.

She never strived to be an exotic dancer, she originally wanted to become something like a doctor, or a dentist. Something more prestigious than a stripper was good for her. She did dream of becoming an artist; something along the lines of doing portraits.

But she took that dream and put it in a jar and placed it on a shelf. She put it away because she was scared. Miss. Van Allan was scared of many things.

Scared of people, dogs, heights, sickness... anything that could be dangerous really. Some would say that having those feeling would make you an innate survivor.

A better word for her would be, wimp.

But she wasn't scared of the dark. That was why she was not afraid of walking through the woods to get home at night. Having to walk home with only a long black coat to cover her dignity against the moonlit floor.

She would much rather walk through the night than have to go past the gaggle of men that had congregated at an entrance to a bar, near her club.

So instead of her shiny heels clicking against the tarmac, she was barefoot, treading over dirt and twigs. She had never taken the path through these trees before, so the sudden sense of bravery she had to the spooky scenery was a foreign feeling.

The moon shined through the trees and displayed lights like broken glass on the path in front of her. It was like a silver brick leading her to where her destiny needed her to go. The path she was following, although she didn't know it then, but this mere walk in the night would not only lead her to where she needed to be but would also lead to pain.

But she needed to go that way.

Soon, instead of following the moon, she found another light to follow.

The light was yellow and artificial. To her, she thought it was a lightbulb.

Venturing closer, having to push protruding branches out of her away, she also had to grab the dirt on the floor as she came to a steep hill.

She was seriously regretting making a split second decision.

She saw outlines of a dirty cabin. On the roof was many deer skins and antlers, the skins sticking to the fabric of the roof. The stairwell was painted with a dark red colour. The dancer decided that these people hunted a lot, and she wanted to ask help from.

She expected a large man, beer in hand, and an overgrown beard to open the door. She wasn't looking forward to opening the door because she had an image in her head of what she would see.

She got close to the door and knocked twice. A fox barked in the distance and she held her coat closer to her freezing skin.

"Hello?" She called out.

She just wanted to be home and take all of her makeup off and read books with a bowl of Jell-O.

Although, she was disgusted by the state of that handle, she grabbed it and turned it.

Surprisingly, she found that it wasn't locked. It was open and for her sleeping pleasure.

She poked her head in a found a grimy living room. The sofa looked like it had been in a war; beer cans scattered the room; there was a knife; pizza boxes. There was only a single light bulb illuminating the room.

She stepped in and closed the door behind her, feeling slightly warmer. She looked around awkwardly, having a sense of anxiety despite the entire room being empty of people.

The sofa in front her, dirty and all, was inviting. Her eyes were droopy and burning under the light bulb.

She stepped around the seat and sat down, setting her black heels on the floor next her dirty feet.

She would wait until someone came to help her. Someone nice and welcoming, hopefully.

People always scared her. She always had the sense that she was being judged, or strangers were plotting against her.

She had hypervigilance, had it since she was 16. When something happened to her. Something awful.

As the night went on and eventually turned to morning, she found it harder to keep her eyes open. Without knowing it, she soon placed her head on the arm of the chair. And passed out.

+

A still distraught Daryl and his Uncle Jess walked up to their cabin. The image of those corpses tearing at the flesh of Will Dixon's arm was still in their mind.

Uncle Jess had to put his brother out of his misery. Daryl couldn't do it.

Every fiber of his being was telling him to kill the man that ruined his life, but in the back of his mind, he didn't want to get rid of his pain.

Uncle Jess was first into the cabin, and the first thing he noticed was a mop of strawberry blonde hair. It sparkled in the sunlight as it fell down the side of the chair.

Daryl was next to see it, and he pulled the same face as his uncle. A face which displayed clear confusion. Both stopped in their tracks.

The day was just going to be filled with unexpectedness. But weirdly, they were both expecting this situation less than the dead coming back to "life".

"Daryl?" Jess questioned, taking a few steps closer to get a look at the girl's face. "D'you know this girl?"

Daryl grunted in response, as a means of saying, "No." He had never seen the girl before.

Jess stepped back and looked at his nephew. Neither of them knew what to do.

"How'd she get in?" Jess questioned yet again, and Daryl responded with only a low noise, again.

As she heard voices, her eyes fluttered open. The people she wanted were there... and then she didn't know what to do.

"We can't leave her here." Jess peeked out the window, spotting a few roamers just outside their door. "Not with those things strolling outside... like they own the damn place."

The dancer strained her neck to look over the top of the sofa, her eyes widened as she spotted the two men. She was frozen to the spot as her stormy green eyes met Daryl's baby blue ones.

Both appeared guarded against each other, resembling cats that had just met each other.

She turned to him and stood up backing up until she hit the wall behind her.

They both stared each other down silently with an unknowing Jess still looking out the window, muttering curses at the situation he was observing.

The lady gulped at the sight of them both. Daryl and the girl stayed silent as they stayed confused at each other's actions.

Daryl looked her up and down. She wore a long black coat that ended mid-thigh. Her pale skin was illuminated by the sun poking through the curtains. Her dark, dramatic makeup was smudged on one side. The contour lost, and her cherry lips slowly turning back to her usual rosy pink.

She felt uncomfortable under his gaze and looked away from his intense, analytical gaze. All he ever did was analyze her in those moments.

Both didn't utter a single word but appeared ready to fight... if need be.

Finally, Jess turned around and was taken back by the sight of them both. He looked at the girl as did his nephew. Jess was trying to find words to say to the girl.

"Hello, ma'am?"

"I don't want any trouble!" she squeaked quickly, putting her hands up, surrendering to the much taller men. She would rightfully slap herself for thinking that she could fall asleep in a stranger's cabin and wake up normally.

"Lady, we don' either. This here's our cabin," Jess replied calmly, approaching the scared being.

Her eyes turned wide and she kicked at him pathetically, so he stopped in his tracks.

"Ma'am you need to calm down," he sighed. He was used to smart, women being afraid of people like him. "We... just tell us why you're here."

"I got lost... th-the door was open. Please don't kill me," she stuttered, her eyes turning impossibly bigger.

"We ain' murderers, calm down," Daryl finally commented in his thick Georgian accent. Daryl stepped beside his uncle, and the redhead stepped back into the corner, knocking over a table in the process.

She breathed heavily and she was close to having a panic attack. She had been in many unique situations in her life, but this was a first.

"I'll just... go now," she sighed, moving along the wall towards the door.

Jess reached out and grabbed her shoulder, to which she flinched and smacked it away from her.

"Missy, you don't wanna' be goin' out there right now," Jess defended, going to put his hand on her shoulder again but retracted it when she swatted him away.

"You are not forcing me to stay here, _Mister_ ," she tried to sound tough but ended up resembling a squealing pig in a pen knowing its own impending doom. "I'm not going to be used in whatever sick way you want to, so let me g-"

"We ain' gonna' do anything to ya!" Daryl yelled loudly, silencing her ramblings. She looked like she was about to cry from tiredness or fear, and Daryl nearly regretted shouting at her, as her face turned to him.

He knew that face... he would make it as a child.

"Why can't... I leave?" whimpered the girl, trying to gather herself as the two men stared at her.

"Remember that virus, Missy?" Jess asked from behind Daryl, again reaching out to the girl.

She nodded in response.

"Well, it's gone shitty and now the dead are roaming the streets."

She stopped whimpering and lifted an eyebrow. Her shoulders dropped, and she just looked weaker by the second. She looked at them with a sad look and said, "Great." Jess left the room saying he was going the gather supplies. She sat on the couch and put her face in her hands, muttering something about having the best day of her life, obviously being sarcastic.

"I don't even have shoes... flipping shoes... I might as well be naked, and now the apocalypse has started," he heard her mumble. He wanted to help out the dishevelled girl somehow, he saw that she wasn't in the best position. She was slowly crumbling to the ground in front of him.

"Where do you live?" he suddenly said, surprising himself and also her as she nearly jumped out of her skin. She turned to him and wiped her face off the mascara trails on her cheeks, but they held strong and she still resembled a melted clown.

"Uh... Sedalia, Molly Avenue. Why?" she admitted. He looked pointedly at what she was wearing and she followed his gaze, to tighten her coat around herself, "Oh... would you mind, uh?"

"Nah, can't have you walking roun' like tha'" he grumbled, turning his gaze from her to look outside. "Jess, we goin'?" he yelled to the other room. The girl got up from her seat and picked up her heels, clutching them to her chest. Uncle Jess rushed into the room, his crossbow in hand and handing a gun to Daryl.

"Make yourself useful Missy and grab tha' bag," Jess ordered softly, careful not to strike more fear into the already scared girl. She picked up the bag he pointed to and put it on her back. The bag contained ammo and two spare guns, along with some first aid necessities and anything that could be counted as food.

"We're gonna' to Sedalia," Daryl told Jess, as they gathered near the door. They took a look at the girl who look terrified back at them. They had some strange girl to look after. Daryl knew he would have to protect her from those things outside. She took a long swallow, holding her hands in front of her after she dropped her useless heels to the ground.

"Follow us Missy, Jess and Daryl will look after you now," Jess said to the small girl. She was incredibly short compared to them, being around 7 inches shorter than both of them.

Everything that was happening to her now caused her only to be angrier with herself at how stupid she was to fall asleep in the middle of nowhere last night. She pushed her lip out, almost making a pouty face and scrunching her eyebrows together.

"My name's Marley. Marley Van Allan." She told them.

"Well Marley... stick beside us, and you'll get out of here alive,"


	2. pieces

Daryl didn't exactly feel joyous that they had to accompany the girl. It seemed to him that gathering clothes were actually the very last things on his to-do list. Following the example of his Uncle Jess, he put his own feelings aside because it was a particularly odd situation.

A pretty girl without proper attire would surely die with the end of the world rising up to their lives. She was actually an extremely small problem compared to what was in store for them just on their doorstep.

"Missy," Jess proposed. The girl looked up from her bare feet. "Just hang onto Daryl there. Don't want you getting lost, do we?"

Daryl eyed his uncle, silently yelling in his face for telling a girl to make physical contact with him. He didn't want the girl getting attached to him, not mentally or physically.

Then she was. She delicately grasped the clothing on his shoulder. Marley looked at him worriedly, hoping that he wouldn't explode and throw her halfway across the room for touching him.

Although Daryl was seething inside, he stayed still. He knew his Uncle was just trying to be nice to her. Unfortunately for him, he had to join in.

They walked out the door and into the front yard. There were about three people, or dead people strolling around.

Marley couldn't believe what she was seeing. Three "people" sniffed around like wandering dogs. They looked to be something out of a horror movie.

They were deathly pale, had bloodshot eyes and they're hands shook like it was the winter. When really it was scorching outside. The skin on their faces, despite looking young, seemed to star hanging off the bone of their jaw. All nerves in their faces seemed switched off as they stared vacantly into the air.

She found herself gripping Daryl's shoulder tighter, her nails digging into her palms through the fabric.

He looked down the Marley, raising an eyebrow at what she was doing before looking back to the situation at hand.

Jess raised his crossbow as they walked to the car.

When one got too close to the man for his liking, he swung at it. All of them heard its neck snap, and its head was stuck looking upwards into the sky. The creature groaned in something other than pain. More like aggravation.

They rushed the rest of the way to the car, having two normal corpses and an even angrier one on their tails. Daryl shoved the girl into the back of the car, closing the door on her before getting in the passenger side himself.

Jess, however, seemed glued to the spot beside the drivers door. The three roamers crawling towards him.

He aimed his crossbow again, shooting it in the heart.

Nothing.

This time he aimed for the head.

Success.

It dropped to the ground with an almighty thud, and he would have retrieved his bolt if there weren't two other roamers on the way.

He abandoned it in the roamers brain, clambering into his car himself.

"Well, damn," he commented with an amused grin. "Only the head."

Marley nor Daryl found it very funny like the way Jess did, and they sat back in their seats.

"Suit yourself," he groaned.

+

They made it to Sedalia and found that a large lorry was blocking their way further into town. It stretched the width of a street, but luckily had a small opening they could climb through on one side.

"We need ta' find gas," Jess said to Daryl, looking in the rear-view mirror, finding the girl behind him looking at her hands sadly.

She felt scared out of her mind. More than she had been at least lately. The initial virus terrified her. But now it had gone global and even more horrific, she was surprised she didn't pass out from pure fear any second.

"Missy, Daryl here is gonna' take you to Molly av'. Do what he says," Jess affirmed, looking to Daryl with warning eyes, who was about to protest.

Daryl didn't want to be babysitting the stranger they found in their cabin. He was still confused as to why she was in there in the first place.

The redneck quickly jumped out the car, shotgun in hand. He just wanted to get it over and done with. Get in, get out.

Jess was going to find the gas. Hopefully, the gas station hadn't been ransacked of everything.

Whilst Daryl would be escorting and protecting the cold barefoot girl so that she wouldn't have to be that way anymore.

She hopped out the car nervously, nearly toppling over due to her shaking knees. Her hands shook like the roamers from earlier. The hairs on the back of her neck stood on end as she felt attentive and needed to be.

Daryl held his arm out to her kindly, and unlike him. He thought it would make it easier for the both of them. He knew that if she held his arm like earlier, she wouldn't try to run away as easily without it. It was like a comfort blanket.

The dancer looked to his eyes, quietly asking for his permission. He nodded his head, saying yes, and she hooked her much skinnier arm around his.

He only wanted her to grab his shoulder and now he was regretting the decision to let her touch him. Again, he seethed inside.

She interlocked her hands together, making her grip more secure and safe.

"Give us an hour," he sighed, annoyed with everyone including himself. He could feel the girl shaking violently despite their contact.

"Stop shaking girl," he ordered her. "What're you, Elvis?"

To his surprise she immediately stopped. She looked to be holding her breath, trying everything she had in her to follow his orders.

He ignored her odd behaviour and started cautiously walking towards the lorry. Almost dragging the girl with him.

A mixture uncertainness and adamance strung through her nerves. Th wanting to run away but also a sense of survival, to stay on her two feet and fight whatever came her away. Those two feelings stayed with her for her whole life. It was the underlining of herself.

They broke apart briefly to climb over the hood of the lorry. After that, she instantly clung to him.

What they found on the other side was a desolation. They simultaneously thought about that it happened within a day. It resembled the aftermath of a riot, that tore through the town. Glass shards littered the street, with accompanying broken windows. An overwhelming stench swam through the air that was the result of a burnt building on the right side of the street. White smoke emanated from the rooftop. On top of that was the scent of rotted skin, clinging to their sinuses.

Marley coughed into her shoulder, eyes squinting from the heat that turned the road into a river of colours without fine lines.

She trained her eyes on the left side of the street, seeing as her apartment was that way.

"This happened in a... morning? Day?" she posed quietly. All the people she saw every day. The people she glanced at in passing. They were gone and now it was just her left to pick up her own pieces.

Daryl replied with a low noise, becoming impatient.

She gently pushed him the way to her house, but still kept him in front of her. He was her bodyguard at that moment, even if he hated doing it, he did his job well.

They turned a corner, now looking down Molly Avenue. It wasn't much better than the rest of the town. Still a mess.

She found her tiny two-apartment complex. It seemed, now, she was dragging Daryl. "Here!" she whispered hastily. Coming to the door, she placed her hand on it, remembering she had her keys in her coat pocket. As she fumbled through them, her elbow knocked the door, causing it to swung open with a loud creak.

Her whole mind panicked. Her heart rate picked up and the hairs on the back of her neck stood on end as her eyes widened. She breathed in quickly and rushed through the doorway. First going to her neighbours door.

It was wide open, where the handle should have been, there was a splintered hole.

She found her neighbour in their chair. The floral patterns on the cushion faded to a dirty brown. The old women's white haired head didn't move. Marley stayed hushed... and she couldn't hear her breath.

"Cordelia?"

Rounding the chair, she came face to face with what she didn't want to.

"Oh... please... not," she whispered to herself painfully, holding her mouth tense.

Cordelia's wrinkled face now sunk in when it was a lot fuller before. Her eyes white, only slightly open. Her jaw hung downwards. Gaunt. Definitely dead.

Seeing someone dead was not Marley's favourite thing. She had already seen three others that day, so there was a certain numbness that came with her observation.

Marley's neighbour never talked to her much, but it still hit her that she was dead.

She left her be, and walked back out the door closing it behind her.

Daryl watched her movements. How she was tense in the shoulders, and her eyebrows furrowed in the tiniest way. Her lips were pressed together into a thin line. Her dimples were brought out as she made an expression of distaste. Her hands clenched and unclenched, digging her nails into her hands.

It appeared to him that the girl had lost a life. Not all of it... just a part of it.

She climbed the stairs cautiously, each step creaking louder than the other. When she came to the landing, her door was wide open, mirroring the one downstairs. Clambering up the last few steps, her legs carried her quickly into her apartment.

Surprisingly, it seemed untouched, besides the fact that all her kitchen draws and cupboards were open. All her food was gone. Understandable.

Whilst Marley gathered some clothes to change into, Daryl only just came into the room, awkwardly standing in the arch of the doorway. He fiddled with his crossbow, unsure of what to do then.

A female's home was a foreign place to him.

"Sit down... or whatever," Marley said shyly, eyeing his uncomfortable stance. She wiped her sofa briefly, signalling him to get comfortable whilst she disappeared into the bathroom, clothes in hand. The click of the door sounded, and Daryl unleashed a breath he didn't know he was holding.

He didn't want to sit down. The defiance coming out of him even with such a simple and welcoming command. She was only being nice, but he didn't want to get comfortable. Or comfortable with her.

He hadn't thought, but now he was, about what would happen to the girl. Would she stay with them? Would she find someone else she knew and go with them?

Truthfully... he didn't mind of she stayed with them. Something about her seemed befitting. Like her being with him wasn't that strange, but at the same time was confused to how she got to that place.

Instead of sitting, he chose to look around. First taking a glance at her bookshelf, which held a numerous amount of colours.

Below it was another shelf. He picked up a white photo frame, earning it some mucky fingermarks on the frame and glass.

In the picture was a younger version of the girl in the bathroom. Short hair, dungarees, and a floral shirt. Smiling, in between two much older people, with another person above her. The people on the sides of her were obviously her parents. The mother having the same nose and eyes as Marley, whilst the father held only a resemblance to the male at the top of the photo. The young man above Marley was smiling too, the same eyes as her.

He put it down and turned around. Huffing in boredom, he approached the coffee table. On it was a book. Torn and had papers sticking out of it in all directions. He warily opened it, flipping quickly through it.

He didn't know how dangerous that book was. The thoughts it held. The memories. Even the pictures could trigger something inside of a certain person to make her have a nervous breakdown.

The people in the photo frame made appearances multiple times, but so did a few other strangers.

There was a certain man, who seemed to make his face seen more towards the end. Dark brown eyes and black hair. Under one of the photos, in cursive writing was, "Get away."

He heard some clattering come from the bathroom, and he snapped it shut.

Straightening back up, he looked to her vanity. Daryl picked up a necklace, observing the turquoise gem at the end.

"It's my birthstone," a small voice interrupted the silence.

The hunter dropped the necklace back to the vanity carefully and turned to see her.

Her face was no longer caked in tear-mixed eyeliner and smudged red lipstick. Her hair wasn't pinned up and sparkling with different pins. Instead now her face was pale and clean, her lips now rosy pink. Her strawberry waterfall of hair fell in relaxed waves. She wore black jeans and a grey jumper.

In Daryl's opinion, she looked better now. But he didn't understand what he was thinking.

She nodded at him, amused, then walked around her apartment, picking up various things like, three books, extra clothes, a brush, the picture, and that book Daryl had read skimmed through from the table.

Daryl wasn't going to say that he read through it.

She stuffed it all into a purple backpack, putting it on her back and walking closer to him.

Silently agreeing to go, they strolled out, bouncing down the stairs, Marley in front, Daryl behind her.

That was the most relaxed they felt that day, but it soon turned sour.

Marley's breath hitched as a form tread into her view. Just in the open doorway to the complex. She tensed her whole body for a second, as the creature turned towards them, sniffing around like the ones she had seen before. She didn't want to get used to seeing them. She hoped this was the last one she would have to witness.

Going into action, she jumped the rest of the way down, and just as the walker was about to lunge inside for dinner, she grabbed the door and shut it.

The roamer instantly protested and banged against the door, its shadow moving sporadically in the tiny window at the top of the door.

She pressed her whole body to the door, struggling to keep it closed.

Until Daryl helped her.

His mind turning its wheels.


	3. panic and the piano

Daryl and Marley grunted as the roamer pushed harder on the door. It hit the door with its own head, its shoulders, arms, everything. It was adamant to get in and either the dancer or the hunter were giving in... but the dancer was close.

The locks on the door were busted from the unknown person breaking in, so that was not one of their options. It probably wouldn't have worked anyway. The sheer weight that he had to uphold at that moment was enough for someone's bones to break, but luckily there was two of them.

"What do we do?" Marley whispered in a panicked tone. Her fingers shook and her nails tapped against the door as the base of her palms pressed forcefully. She looked to the man beside her, her green eyes burning with fear.

Another thud came from outside, followed by even more. There was now more than one. They were ganging up on them.

Marley's chest shuddered, as she was on the verge of panicking, but still kept her face looking at Daryl.

He looked down to her. "Do we have access to the roof?" he asked quietly in a hoarse voice.

She nodded, looking to her apartment over her shoulder. She didn't get to look at it much, though, as the weight got heavier and heavier.

"Find something to hold the door," he ordered, more desperate now. He turned from holding it with his hands to holding it with his back.

"I can't move... it's too heavy," Marley said, alarmed and scared. She now pressed the side of her face to the door, her cheek lips contorting with how she placed her face. "You can't take it."

"Dammit girl! I can!" he all but nearly shouted. She cowered away from him, bringing her shoulders tense, and her hands reaching up to her face.

"Get something, now!" he ordered again, his voice getting louder despite recognising the look on her face from experience.

It was that face he knew so well, and it made him question who she was. The expression held betrayal whilst being laced with fear. That certain mixture meant something more to him.

She backed away from the door quickly, wanting to get away from him. She paused for a moment and stuck her lip out, on the verge of a bigger surge of panic than before.

"Go!" he roared, struggling to keep the door closed.

She bolted into Cordelia's apartment once again, looking around the old woman's room for what she had in mind.

Daryl tried his best to keep the door closed, gritting his teeth as it seemed more and more corpses piled up outside.

They must have smelt him, as their dirty, cold, fingers clawed at the frosted glass. The glass which was cracking. Spider-webbing under the pressure.

Like the girl, Daryl couldn't help but let the heavy feeling rise in his chest... panic. But he couldn't let himself, so he buried it away with all the other emotions that were dangerous for his survival.

He heard, besides the deathly groans and his exhausted breathing, a screeching wood-on-wood sound. His eyes flickered to the open door in curiosity.

Out peeked, from the doorway, a large stained wooden object from a profile view. It was shiny, and he had no idea what it was.

The redhead poked her head from above it, flicking her hair away from her face, but failing as a few strands stuck to her eyelashes.

He watched in shock as she scrunched up her face, making it turn slightly red, pushing the object further towards him.

"Is this good enough?" she squeaked, holding her breath.

"What is it?" he asked, nearly losing his footing, but gaining it back.

"A piano," she huffed as if it were obvious. If the piano had wheels, it would have been easier to push.

He nodded eagerly as she slowly made her way to the door. Their faces mirrored each others as they both held a weight greater than her own.

She was impressed with herself at her choice of object, and her upper strength wasn't usually up to par at that moment due to the rush of bad emotions turning her muscles to jelly. But being an exotic dancer trained you in some ways. She tried to flick away the hair in her face but failed, as they now also stuck to the sweat that was accumulating on her forehead.

After a painstaking amount of time, that felt longer than it was, she turned it so she could push it against the door.

Daryl moved as much as he could, letting it slide against the door snuggly. He soon enough helped her by pulling it towards him, easily sending it more length than she had done by pushing.

They both stepped back, breathing out into the air, exhausted, wiping their foreheads in unison.

They blocked the door just in time, as a roamer had broken a part of the window and was now grasping the broken piece, its blood seeping from his fingers. The blood was brown and sticky like hot wax.

Daryl looked at the shorter girl expectantly.

He took a chance to observe her for a moment, seeing her parted lips turn dry as she breathed, and her eyelashes twitch as her eyes scanned the door.

' _Something about her_ ', he thought.

That moment was gone as he cleared his throat, and she looked at him. Blue and green meeting each other.

"Right," she realized, her voice more scratchy now. "The roof." She pointed her fingers upwards, and adjusted the straps of her backpack, straightening it. She ran around him and up the stairs. She nearly crawled up the stairs with exhaustion.

Daryl followed her into her apartment and into her kitchen. He watched Marley open a window warily.

Her breath hitched as she saw the height in which she could easily fall. Her fingers fumbled at the sill, but she closed her eyes as a breeze brushed through her hair and over her neck. When she opened her eyes back up, she regretted it and let go of the sill, looking to the man behind her.

"Ladies first," she said to herself, then she looked straight to his eyes. "Men just before."

Daryl scoffed, not bothering to try and understand. He easily fitted through the gap and landed on the fire escape. A large clattering echoed through the street but was easily muffled by the noises below.

There was a ladder leading up to the top of the building. Down below him, he saw the roamers now pawing at the air for him.

Marley, although her whole mind detested, ducked out onto the fire escape. She immediately, put her hands on the railing, looking straight ahead. She started to shake again, that tight feeling in her chest becoming more painful.

Daryl climbed the ladder, reaching the top, and he looked down to she hadn't moved from her position.

"We ain' got all day," he yelled down.

She winced at that and blinked rapidly. She turned slowly to the ladder. She grabbed hold and started to ascend.

She swallowed hard, her grip on each step being like a vice.

She reached the top and crawled onto the floor of it. She stood up, swaying slightly.

Daryl squinted at the girl confusedly. She looked to him, but as soon as their eyes met, he turned and started walking along the roof.

It took her a moment to find her bearings, but she managed and started to follow him using unsure steps. She wrapped her arms around herself and watched the hunters back as he slowed slightly to be more her pace.

"You scared of heights or something?" he inquired, trying to be softer with the girl. He didn't really know how to, but he tried.

"Is it that obvious?" she said sarcastically, glancing at him for a moment. She tried to walk a little faster than him to get away from him, but he just kept the same pace as her.

She was tired. It had been a short day, but it had been filled with craziness that no one was used to. Especially Marley.

They got the edge of the roof, with another fire escape.

Again, Daryl went first.

This time, Marley was forced to look down. To look down to one of her fears.

Daryl jumped down from the ladder and looked up, seeing the girl. He fiddled with the strap of his crossbow, waiting for her.

Daryl didn't know that she was afraid of heights.

She got onto her bottom and slid to the ladder. Her knees shook as she turned on her legs and started descending. She looked straight to the brick wall in front of her, her lips trembling under the panic. Her heart beat faster. Her palms became sweaty.

She didn't know how far she had gone down, but she didn't intend to look any other way than forward.

Daryl didn't care what the girl felt, he was just fed up. He was becoming impatient. His foot tapped on the concrete. He took a gaze at his surroundings, seeing no roamers in sight.

He heard something, more along the lines of a human. The person was talking, and he presumed it was his Uncle, as the truck wasn't that far away.

Marley was at the bottom of the ladder, and she had to jump the rest of the way down. Daryl had made it look easy, but she was seven inches shorter than him.

She breathed out quickly and let go. Something she thought she wouldn't do.

She landed unsteadily on her feet, feeling a slight pain in the heels at the sudden contact. She wavered backwards and was going to fall on her backside, spreading her arms outwards awkwardly.

Daryl dodged her form and she hit the ground with a thump. She hissed as the concrete came in contact with her hip. Her hands scraping against the floor and cutting into them.

She looked up to the man above her, scowling at him. Wiping her stinging hands on her jeans.


	4. the suited man

"Thanks," She huffed sarcastically, getting up from the ground and wiping down the back of her pants. Her knuckles stung as she grazed them against the fabric. Tiny, paper like cuts were scattered across them, and she brought them to her lips, sucking on them and hoping to ease away the annoying pain.

Daryl's impatience played at him too much for him to care about catching the girl, and instead his curiosity about the voice from far away was much more important. He paced on the spot, his fingers playing with the metal on the gun, and his elbows twitching slightly, constantly readjusting the weapon.

When she finally stopped wiping herself down, he bolted towards the sounds. Marley struggled to keep up with his eager pace and was panicking slightly as she had no arm to hold onto. Her thighs burned from being fallen on.

When Daryl came to then being able to see his uncle's car, his uncle was nowhere to be seen. Instead, a tall man wearing a suit had petrol canister in his hands, pouring the liquid into the car.

The redneck's grip tightened on the shotgun in his grasp, he slowed his steps, mimicking what it would be like to hunt an animal in the woods. Slow, steady, even steps.

The unknowing stranger still hadn't noticed him, shaking the canister to get every last drop down. The man's suit was torn at the edges but still kept its sharp look. His hair was still slicked back and parted evenly.

Put Daryl and that man next to each other, and going by appearance... they were two totally different people. And that was true, Daryl didn't have a clue as to how different that man was to him.

He heard light footsteps and knew that Marley had caught up with him and was now gripping the fabric on the side of his shirt. He wanted to flinch away and tell her to piss off, that he was busy protecting her ass, but he decided against that.

Marley's gaze followed his, taking in the stranger's appearance. But to her, he was not a stranger. She knew him very well... a little too well for anyone's liking.

She released the grip on Daryl, going forward more quickly, taking the lead in front of Daryl.

She was more afraid of the man yet less cautious than Daryl. The man now behind her squinted his eyes at her odd behaviour. He reluctantly followed in her footsteps.

Her small hands fumbled with straps of her backpack as she slowly took it off and put it on the ground. With that noise, the suited man looked up from the nozzle of the canister, and his eyes captured hers. A smiled rose to his lips, a toothy white grin, creating dimples in his cheeks. He immediately dropped the canister, rushing over to the shorter girl and wrapping his arms around her, pressing her head against his chest.

Marley wrapped her own arms around the man's midsection, keeping her eyes open, watching Daryl as he seemed to stop at the sight of them both.

"Whoa, whoa man," Marley's accomplice warned Daryl, snatching a gun from underneath his jacket.

With that, Daryl lifted his own gun, growling slightly under his breath, ready to shoot anything.

Marley's heart rate rose, and she pushed herself away from the man's tight grip on her wrist. She stepped in front of them both, placing her hand on the man's chest and waving away at Daryl. "No, no, no!" She squealed. "James, it's okay."

Said man took her hand from his chest and swatted it away, and when she went to put it back, he simply gripped it in his own. "The hell is this dude, Ariel?"

_Ariel?_

Daryl was confused... _who was Ariel?_

"It-uh... it's Daryl, he-uh," she stuttered out, wincing at the grip he had on her. Her cut knuckles stung as he squeezed them. "Him and his uncle helped me get back home."

"Back home?" he said quietly, his gaze wavering between the man shoving a gun in his face and his prize he had a hold of. "What was he doing taking you back home, you was already back home or was you out not being loyal?"

She shook her head fearfully, tears springing to her waterline as his grip became too much on her hand and she feared he was going to break it... again.

Daryl watched confusedly as the girl let James hurt her, she showed no sign of struggle or trying to get away from him. Instead, she kept her hand still, but shaking as he saw her hand go white at the sheer force.

He wanted to go over there and tear the man away from her, and throw him to the ground, stepping on his hand in the process. But thinking and doing were two different things. Unfortunately for Marley, he was only thinking.

His finger hovered over the trigger for the gun.

"Where'd you pick this hick up?" James accused angrily, but quietly. The venom in his voice dripped off the edge of his tongue, poisoning Marley's thoughts.

"'This hick' is right here," Daryl finally spoke up. It causes James to lose grip on the girl, and he fully turned towards him, straightening out his grey suit. He confidently lifted the gun to point directly towards the middle of Daryl's forehead.

"Hey man," James started, wanting to sound friendly but coming off a little too kind for the type of person he was. "lower that gun, your pointing it at my Ariel now." James reached behind him and handled the fabric of her jacket, pulling her towards him so that she stood in front of him.

Again, Daryl saw no ounce of resistance from the red-head. Instead she hugged her arms close to herself, looking into Daryl's eyes. Her own screamed a thousand words in different languages that all said the same thing - "Help..., please."

Daryl didn't lower the gun, he just kept looking cautiously at the man, keeping Marley in his vision.

"Hey, you deaf as well as stupid?" James boomed. "Lower the boomstick, man."

Marley's chest fell and rose fast, a feeling she couldn't put a word to coursing through her veins and filling her brain with fire.

"Don' think I should."

A click of a gun and Marley's eyes widened at the sound beside her head. She found Daryl's eyes and he seemed to listen to her silent screams and he lowered the gun.

James took a few more seconds before he lowered his own, and the side of his mouth tugged upwards. He put his hands on Marley's shoulders putting his lips on the side of her face and quickly pecking her cheek.

His face seemed to appear ecstatic, like a kid who got free candy.

It was silent between them all before James decided to open up his big mouth.

"Is he a Dixon?" he asked, directed towards Marley. She nodded meekly.

"James Blake," the suited man introduced, patted his hands on Marley's shoulders, then gripping her elbows.

Knowing his full name, meant that Daryl knew his reputation. Merle had mentioned him before, talking about how he had the prettiest girl in "The Castle". "The Castle" being a strip club. However, Daryl only knew 'the prettiest girl' as ' _Ariel_ '. Merle never called her by any other name, and everyone who knew about her called her that. All the men that knew her anyway. Daryl had never been to the club, so he had never met this girl. Now he knew who ' _Ariel_ ' was. She was Marley.

"Yeh,' I heard of ya'," Daryl said. Daryl's insides squirmed at what he knew about the man in front of him. The thing was... he could imagine him doing what he knew he did. 

They were silent for a moment until Marley spoke up. "James, Daryl's uncle owns this car, he went to get fuel."

James turned to her and got real close to her face, "We're gonna use this car for us now,"

"But this is Daryl's car," she whispered. Daryl couldn't help but hate James more as the seconds went on.

"Well we're takin' it, ain' no 'Daryl's uncle' anywhere," he whispered, but Daryl could hear every word. Daryl was thinking this man was stupid for saying his plan right in front of him. But he knew from that, that James was the wrong kind of cocky.

James turned around and looked at Daryl, keeping his hand near Marley's scared face.

"Sorry about' her, didn't give you any trouble did she?" James laughed, like he wasn't just verbally abusing someone so fragile. Daryl slowly shook his head.

"I ain' seen yer uncle, but I did see someone getting taken down by those walkers,"

This made Daryl's stomach twist. He had a feeling that his Uncle was the guy that got taken down by "Walkers". This made anger boil inside him like hot water, going from a slow simmer to a ravenous scolding liquid.

"We'll be leavin' now Daryl," James said, in a tone like he was invincible, "I'll take her off your hands." James took a hold of Marley's arm and started dragging her to the car. He opened the passenger door and pushed her slightly to get in the car.

From Daryl's perspective, Marley had stopped before getting in the car because her eyes had grown wide at the sight of something in there.

"Get in Ariel!" James boomed, and she quickly got in, lifting her legs up as not to step onto what was on the floor. That confirmed that he thought Marley was 'Ariel'.

Daryl went to walk around the car to look like he was going to find his uncle, what he really wanted was to know what Marley was shocked to see.

He instantly spotted that on the car floor in the passenger seat... was Uncle Jess's crossbow.

Daryl grabbed the back of James' shirt and yanked him backwards making him fall to the ground with a low yelp. Daryl grabbed his Uncle's crossbow and turned to deal with James, but a fist came colliding with his jaw.

Daryl dropped his crossbow and punched him in the gut, making James' double over, but come back just as quick and tackle Daryl to the ground. Marley looked on in horror as they started beating each other to a pulp. She started rummaging round for anything that could help her break up the fight. A gun maybe to shoot into the air to shock them. Anything. She kept glancing to them as they rolled around in a mess of fists and kicks as she rummaged around the glove box. She slowly pulled out a red multi tool, and slid out the knife.

Marley got out of the car and found that James had the upper hand, he was on top of Daryl, hands on his throat, slowly making Daryl's eye roll back in his head as the air was cut off from head. Daryl tried everything to get the guy off of him, but he was slowly losing his strength with consciousness. He could see black spots and he could hear Marley shouting James' name. James let go off his throat and got off him, strutting his way to Marley, Daryl quickly gained his strength and crawled after him.

"You little girl, you better drop that knife, or it's gonna' go bad for you'," James' growled. She backed up so much that her back hit the car behind her. She kept the knife up to her chest pointing outwards.

He stopped in front of her, cocked an eyebrow, then took her small head in his right hand and pushed it back quickly onto the car behind her. She gasped at his actions and moaned as she grasped her head and dropped the knife. Blood started trickling down her forehead. He took her head again and slammed it again against the car.

She fell to the floor, clutching her pounding head in one hand, the other to keep her from laying on the ground. This wasn't what James' wanted, he wanted her to be knocked out so he could drag her away. He kicked her stomach, that was already, secretly, painted with his hand-prints of purple. She fell to the ground.

She heard an extremely loud gunshot, and felt something extremely heavy land on top of her.

Her ears ringing and vision blurry, she turned over the best she could to see what was on top of her. She turned to see that James' eyes were wide and in her face. Void from life, and impossibly more cold than they were before, despite being a dark brown colour.

She shook under his weight, started to have a slight panic attack that a dead body was on top of her. She started crying profusely, the tears streaming like full on waterworks.

Daryl had shot him in the head, after crawling to the shotgun on the floor. He could hear that the walkers were more riled up with all the noise that just came from the commotion. He knew they needed to get out of there and fast. He now had a concussed girl with him, that just got beaten by Jimmy Blake.

"Marley?" he said, as he lifted the body from her, tossing it to the left. She was shaking like a leaf, eyes wide, but she still looked dizzy. He knelt down and lifted her up to a sitting position to take a better look at her bleeding head. Whilst inspecting her as she shook, he realised that it was just him and her. His uncle was obviously dead, the crossbow and the lying dead prick to his left was proof of that.

All he could hear was the breathy moans from the walkers on the other side of the lorry, and Marley's shaky and panicked breaths.

Marley could feel her head become heavy and her shoulders become weak and her head lulled downwards to where she could no longer carry it. Her breaths became more relaxed, and it wasn't long before all she could see was black and she fell unconscious.

"Marley! Marley! Wake up! Ah shit!" Daryl said worriedly. The girl had become limp in his arms, and as he looked around, there was a crowd of walkers coming the way his uncle left.

He picked up the girl, one arm under knees, and the other around her shoulder. Placing her delicately in the passenger seat and strapping her seatbelt in. He turned to gather whatever they had dropped and put them in the back of the car. His uncle's (now his) crossbow; Marley's small rucksack; the multi-tool; Daryl's shotgun: and the fuel container. The walkers had nearly made their way over when he hopped in the driver's seat.

Turning the car around, he made the car drive the way to Fontana, which would take around a day to get to, meaning he would need to find somewhere to sleep.

 

 


	5. green fire

Daryl had been driving for three hours in silence, stealing worried glances to the unconscious girl. Now he had stopped the car in the middle of a dirt road on the way to Fontana, resting up a bit for driving so long.

He simply sat there, looking confusedly at the girl next to him. She had dried blood on her forehead, and a patch on her neck from when James fell on her.

He kept asking himself questions; do I wake her up? How long will she be like this? should I have really killed Jimmy Blake? Where the fuck is Merle?

He kind of knew the answer to the last question. Merle had business in Fontana, that's why he was making his way there. He didn't know what the hell to answer for the other questions, mostly because they were about Marley.

He racked his brain on whether he had ever met her before. He came up with nothing. If he had met her before, he would have remembered. He was sure of that.

Suddenly the girl started moving, her eyes adorabley scrunched up before piercing through and opening up. She lifted her hands to her head and moaned as her head felt like she had been- wait... she realised that she _had_ been kicked in.

"Ow!" she whispered, and lifted her knees to curl up into a ball. Her eyes went crossed eyed for a second, as a water bottle was right in her face. She grabbed it, and then a bottle of aspirin was pushed to her nose next. She took them to and popped the cap off and took two, greedily gulping down the water.

After screwing the lid back on the bottle, she set it in her lap, and cautiously looked to her left. Daryl had one leg up, his foot resting on the dashboard, making him heighten slightly. He chewed on his thumbnail as he stared at her.

She held her hands in her lap, and cleared her throat before saying, "Thank you,"

He just nodded, and then looked at her confusedly at the realisation of something, "Fer what?"

She looked confused as well. Did she thank him for killing Jimmy Blake? For taking her to get clothes? For not leaving her unconscious on the road?

"For saving me," she concluded in a small voice. He scoffed and put his leg on the floor, "You'd be dead if it wasn't fer me," he said smugly.

"Yeah I know," she said, as if she had just said it before. Daryl had never been thanked in that way before, he didn't know how to handle it.

"Where are we gonna go?" she questioned, looking around through the windows.

"Fontana, mah brothers there," he confirmed in a gruff voice. She nodded, and sat back. She thought that when he found his brother, he would leave her, she understood why he would. It was only a coincidence that she met Daryl Dixon, she figured it wouldn't last.

"We're camping up fer the night tho', ain' gonna make it there today, it's gettin' dark," he said to her as he got out and made his way to the trunk of the car, where all the camping supplies were.

She got out after him, having to steady herself for a second, she was still a little dizzy. She walked to where Daryl was, and he instantly put a tent in her arms. She huffed as it was slightly heavy, and she wasn't the strongest of people. She then noticed that Daryl had a black-eye forming under his left eye and a bruise slightly showing on his jaw. She decided to not go into it, as she knew who Daryl Dixon's father was. As she would flinch from anybodies touch on her stomach because who her boyfriend was, Daryl would do the same because of who is father was.

Will Dixon was a regular in "The Castle", he was a well-respected customer. But he had a habit of getting too close, and sometimes people wouldn't stop him. He'd put his hands up and grasp the air like a baby, wanting to get a piece of them. Marley always tried to stay away from him.

"You ever been camping?" Daryl said, as he started picking up some supplies.

"Once," she said, "in my back yard, when I was twelve,". Daryl looked at her for a second, before tearing is gaze away from her green eyes to set up camp.

+

"Where are you gonna sleep?" she asked worriedly, placing her backpack in the two person tent. They had walked a bit into the forest, and set up a fire and tent. The fire was low, but was enough to cascade light on each of their faces.

"Somebody needs to take watch," Daryl huffed, as he sat down opposite the tent door on the other side of the fire. She sat down in the tent, looking out the door to look at Daryl. She took off her jacket and crossed her legs to look at the fire.

It was silent for a while, Marley had resorted to plaiting small pieces of her hair and unravelling them repeatedly. Daryl simply stared at the fire.

"Why did you kill him?" She suddenly said, breaking the silence. He brought up his baby blue eyes to meet her serpent green ones. She was staring right at him, piece of hair in hand.

"Did he deserve to live?" Daryl challenged, "Would you have wanted tha'?"

"People get what they get, it has nothing to do with what they deserve," she counteracted, staring at him meaningfully. They both wanted to see who would break their gaze first.

"I heard a lot abou' Jimmy Blake and what he did to 'Ariel'" Daryl admitted, "Ain' nothing to want him alive fer,"

"What did you hear?" she questioned, still scared if he would explode. She felt like she was poking a bear with a stick.

"A lot," he spoke more clearly now, "A lot about how he would use his girlfriend to pay up any favours he made,"

Marley shuddered at the thought. Jimmy always offered her up if he had a debt to pay, and most of the time the men obliged.

"Yeah... that sucked," she sighed, taking a drink from her water-bottle. There was, yet again, a long silence.

"Why tha name Ariel?" Daryl suddenly asked, curious.

"The concept of 'The Castle' was that we were all princesses, and Ariel was the red head princess character in the little mermaid so I took up that name," She rambled, fiddling with her fingers in her lap. Daryl didn't really understand what she meant, but he just wanted to hear her talk. She would talk a lot but you had to get her going, ask her questions. He didn't want to talk about himself, so he figured if he got her talking about herself that they wouldn't breach the subject.

"Jimmy take ya' there?" he asked, referring to "The Castle".

She nodded, "My parents died when I was sixteen and my brother left... I had already met James in school, and he looked after me cause I had nowhere to go. He owed someone at the club a favour, so he offered me up to be a dancer and they obliged," she smiled like it hurt her to say anything.

"Who were your parents?" he furthered her on.

"Uh... Robert and Violet Van Allan... dentists. Car accident," she said simply, "What about you?"

He suddenly averted his gaze to the fire, hoping that she would lay off.

"What was yer mom's name?" she then coughed awkwardly, "Uh, I'm sorry! I'm being rude... you don't have to-"

"Mary" Daryl cut her off. She also became concerned as to whether it hurt him to say her name.

"Her name was Mary?" she asked, he nodded slowly, finally looking back to her eyes.

"How old are you?" she asked, slightly getting on Daryl's nerves as the table was turned to him and he wanted her to talk about herself.

"27," he said simply. She smiled then said, "I'm 20," she told him, and all he did was nod slowly again, "My birthday's December 25th... it's the day my parents died," she said sadly.

He looked deeper into her eyes, and found that she was looking at the fire. This made him notice that her eyes looked like emeralds on fire. The orange danced around on her irises as she stared into the embers. He also noticed a stray tear escaped those eyes and flow onto her cheeks. Then another tear, and he soon found that she was sobbing. The girl clearly had no trouble crying in front of him as she broke down.

"Just leave me here Daryl," she cried, "I'm just a useless inconvenience... who just cries and has a boyfriend that beat you up."

He was quite shocked at her sudden outburst, but he kept deathly still, still captured by the dancing lights in her eyes. She looked up to him, tucking her red hair behind her ears and sniffing loudly.

"Nah, yer alrigh'," he said, and looked away from her eyes, taking a grip of the crossbow to his side and setting it in his lap. She looked at him in disbelief, like her plan had failed to make him leave her alone.

She sighed and zipped up the entrance to the tent, laying back on her sleeping back and trying to sleep the best she could.

Daryl stayed outside the whole night keeping watch on Marley.


	6. merle

Daryl yawned as the sun finally peeked through the trees, telling him that it was morning, and it was time to go. He got up from his seat and stretched like a cat, cracking his back and neck in the process.

He had to wake up Marley, who had emitted a chorus of sobs and sniffles last night before eventually quieting down. He knew that this girl wouldn't be alive if she hadn't stumbled across his cabin the other night. He was kinda glad she did, as he felt sick to think that Jimmy Blake would have been the one to be with her if it wasn't him. He still kept questioning himself about why he obliged to stick with her.

He leant over and started unzipping the door to the tent.

"Marley? We need to go," he grumbled, "Marley?" he looked in further. She was curled up on her side like a cat. She must have taken her jeans off last night because she was left in her t-shirt and panties. Daryl's eyes wandered up her pale slim legs. Daryl couldn't help but admit in his head that she was a gorgeous person. She had gone from a melted clown to being bare-faced and pale. Her mouth was slightly parted as she breathed softly, hands under her head in a peaceful slumber.

Daryl suddenly felt rude as she started turning in her sleep a little. Her eyes opened and she yawned, stretching her arms above her head. This caused her t-shirt to lift and expose her stomach that Daryl noticed was scattered with bruises and scars. He averted his eyes and stepped out from looking in.

+

It was silent as they drove to Fontana. Daryl drove whilst Marley rested her chin on the open windowsill. She squinted her eyes as wind whizzed past her face. There was hardly any traffic.

Marley was suffocating in boredom, as she was safe enough to be bored. She brought her head back in the car and faced forward. She stuck her hand out instead and weaved it through the air.

"How long?" she asked.

"Not long, naw," Daryl answered. Marley looked to her left to look at Daryl. He had a cigarette hanging from his lips, the smoke flowing out the open window which he had his arm out of. Her thoughts were interrupted as her stomach grumbled, luckily quiet enough not to embarrass her. She was hungry, she hadn't eaten for a day, the only thing she'd been having was water.

She took off her belt and turned to lean in between the front seats to get to her bag. Rummaging around, she found a candy bar.

Daryl was just looking confusedly at her, as he didn't know what she was doing. Again her t-shirt lifted up slightly to show some of her bruises. He took one of his fingers and lifted it up to them, ever so lightly tracing them for a split-second. But Marie flinched and nearly hit her head on the ceiling. She jumped back into her seat and turned away from him to eat her candy bar.

"Jimmy Blake," was all she had to say, and Daryl knew what she meant. Daryl also knew that she didn't love Jimmy anymore, as normally using his full "Jimmy Blake" name normally mean you didn't like him very much.

+

Upon entering Fontana, they heard gunshots. All gunshots sounded like they were being set off by a lunatic.

"Keep yer head down," Daryl ordered quietly. She didn't think twice before crouching down near the glovebox and curling up into a safe ball. Daryl stopped the car, and killed the engine. The gunshots continued, but he couldn't see anyone, he figured that they were further into town.

All he could do was look on at nothing but listen to the cacophony of bullets in the air. But then they stopped suddenly, and Daryl looked around to rooftops, the houses that were in the street looked to have been ransacked, and one at the end of the street was even on fire.

"Is it safe?" Marley whispered. Daryl shushed her quickly, as he heard another noise. This noise was someone shouting and singing their heads off.

Some old fool was singing "Dead or Alive" - Bon Jovi. Daryl scratched his head in confusion, then as a figure appeared around the corner with a large gun in their hands, swinging in around like a baton stick, Daryl held his palm out to Marley, as if to say, "Be quiet."

The figure got closer, and it was obvious there was no way of escaping the figures gaze. They were the only car in the middle of the street. But soon enough, Daryl could distinguish who it was.

It was Merle.

Daryl quickly hopped out of the car, leaving Marley cowering, still on the floor like a scolded dog.

Daryl ran up to him and did some sort of manly hug high-five thing as Merle chuckled.

"Just you?" Merle chuckled some more. Daryl shook his head as they walked back to the car. Daryl was quite nervous to introduce Merle to Marley, he wasn't sure how Merle would react.

Merle opened the passenger side door and found Marley. She quickly turned her head and went wide-eyed at the sight of Merle.

"Well if it ain' Miss. Ariel Blake, all the way from the castle, huh!" Merle chanted loudly. She quickly scrambled out of the car and stood in front of Merle. She just wanted to be behind Daryl at this point, so she looked around for him, found him, then walked around to be behind his taller self.

"You Daryl's piece now? What happened to yourboyfrien' Jimmy?" Merle asked.

She shook her head violently despite having a dull ache in her head, "Jimmy's dead," she announced.

"Tha's a shame," Merle said solemnly, only for his smile to return, "You could belong to anyone now, huh?"

"Lay of it, Merle!" Daryl ordered tiredly.

"Why don' you an I go cuddle up while Daryl go gets some supplies, huh?"

"Merle!"

"I'm sure Daryl wouldn't mind,"

"Merle! Shut up!" Daryl boomed, silencing Merle.

"You talk to yer brother like tha' jus' for some stripper," Merle yelled, "She ain' worth it, let her fend fer herself,"

"She's sticking with us!"

"Shut up!" Marley shouted, making them look to her, "Just shut up! I'm right here jackass,"

Her outburst caused Merle to laugh. Merle gave up and started walking away in the direction that Daryl knew was the way to Jack's bar.

"Hey where you goin'?" Daryl yelled after him.

"I left something in Jack's, stay there," He shouted back. Daryl growled in annoyance, then turned to Marley.

"You gonna' cause all mah problems missy?" Daryl argued.

"What the hell are talking about?"

"You said so yerself, you ain' nothing I should besavin'"

"And yet you did!"

This caused Daryl to growl more and turn to get back in the car. This made Marley confused.

"You're not going after him?" she argued. She walked to the passenger side and looked at him through the open door. Daryl kept his gaze away from her green one.

"Don' see why I should," he sighed angrily.

"I may not know Merle like you do, but we both know that if you don't go after him then we're both gonna be on his bad side... especially me," she reasoned. Daryl finally looked at her.

"You don' know nothing," he hissed, "Merle's fine,"

"No!" she counteracted, "I know a lot," her eyes burned with reason and passion. Daryl knew that she may know a bit, but he was still angry with her.

Marley sat in the car, facing Daryl who was playing with the worn out steering wheel.

"If I'd never gone after Jimmy..." she whispered, Daryl subconsciously looked to her stomach, then back up to her eyes, "... I think that maybe... he'd been a lot worse coming back if I never went after him."

Daryl didn't reason her knowledge on that. Definitely not that.

"Ya' know how ta shoot a gun?" he asked quietly. She nodded and shrugged at the same time, "Somewhat," she said in her usual quiet voice.

Daryl reached to the back seat and grabbed a small handgun, and passed it to her slowly. She turned it in her hands slowly, eyeing it and the gears that worked it. She checked the magazine, and found that it was full and had 7 rounds.

"C'mon," Daryl said, then grabbing his crossbow from the back seat as well.

Then both hopped out, and Daryl waited for her to grab his arm as usual. She hooked her left arm around his right, and held her gun in her right hand tightly.


	7. taken

Daryl and Marley followed in Merle's footsteps while finding the walkers he had killed on the way. Marley shook with fear, although she felt safe around the Dixon brother, she still had that heavy tight feeling in her chest. Like something was going to go wrong.

Daryl stood strong, with each step dragging the scared Marley along each footstep that took her out of her comfort zone.

They found the entrance to Jack's bar. The gigantic lights were smashed and littered the floor with white shards. The bar looked to have been raided like every other building Daryl and Marley had found so far.

As they stepped closer, Daryl's hunting ears perked up at the sound of voices. They stopped in their tracks for a moment for him to listen. He heard 4 voices, one of them being Merle.

They got to the front door, and Marley pushed to door lightly with her small hands. The door creaked open and a new voice spoke up.

"Looks like we got a guest," they said, as Daryl and Marley cautiously walked in.

There was Merle on the left and the three mystery men to the right. One of the men who seemed to be the leader had long blonde hair that reached his shoulders, and a blonde goatee to match. He wore a heavy black leather jacket, and multiple fat rings on his fingers.

The other two men were short, fat and bald. They looked to be at least brothers, if not, twins even. Daryl could tell they were all eyeing up Marley from head to toe, and she shook even more under his arm. He stepped in front of her protectively.

"Darylina, I told you to stay in the car," Merle said, his eyes screaming for them to leave.

"You was gonna ambush us," the blonde man said, "You was gonna keep little Ariel away from us," he stayed calm and collective. It reminded Marley too much of those serial killers she saw at the movies. The ones like Hannibal Lecter who would stay incredible still and blank as they spoke to you. Daryl stepped closer to his brother, along with Marley who didn't falter in following him. Daryl faced the three men, whilst Marley kept her face hidden with her hair, although she was known almost by everyone for her hair colour. It was too late, they had already recognised her.

"You seen your boyfriend Jimmy, Ariel?" the blonde spoke up once again, "We ain' seen him around lately... he owes us a favour," with what he said, Marley's head shot up to look at him, at the realisation of what he had in mind.

"This business is between you and me man, now answer mah question," Merle interjected, "Is there any reason I had to go guns blazing at the police... I figured you sold me out,"

The blonde man started walking closer to them, veering to where Daryl was. But he didn't want Daryl, he wanted Marley.

"Yeh we did," the blonde simply said, "Boys!" he yelled. The two men behind him charge like trained bulldogs at the Dixons. Neither Daryl or Merle had the time to fire, let alone aim at the men as they were knocked to the ground. Marley stepped out-of-the-way, going to run out-of-the-way, but the blonde man grabbed her by her waist and squeezed her tightly, causing her to whimper. He lifted her off the ground as she screamed.

The two men who had tackled the brothers, were now aiming at knocking them out. They had finally succeeded in knocking Daryl out. Merle was the problem, they kept punching his nose, and soon enough he looked slightly dazed.

The blonde man, all while the ruckus was happening, kept his hand planted down on Marley's mouth and nose. She tried to get away and even tried biting his hand, but she had failed. The man kept a tight squeeze on her waist as he knew that she was constantly wounded right there. She screamed into his hand until her throat was sore and raw without sound. She had lost her voice, and anything she would say into his hand came out as a squeaky whisper.

He pulled her into his chest and put his hand on her neck tightly, squeezing a pressure point every time she made a noise.

"Let's take this Ariel back home, shall we?" The blonde man announced to his accomplices. The two fat men let go of Merle and Daryl, and followed their leader to the cars out back.


	8. waterboarding

"Daryl!" Merle yelled, shaking his brothers shoulders, "Hey sleeping beauty!"

Merle slapped him in the face, which made Daryl gasp slightly and awaken. He sat up whilst Merle held a tight grasp on his shoulder.

"Them fat fucks knocked us out," Merle told him, leaving him to get up on his own and collect his gun. Daryl picked up his crossbow, holding his hand to his head slightly. There was something he was missing. That's when he realised, that his arm felt slightly less heavy than before he was knocked out.

"They took Marley?" Daryl asked his brother.

Merle looked up to him and nodded, "said they was taking her home or somethin'."

Daryl looked around slightly confused, "The Castle?"

"Most likely," Merle confirmed, "C'mon, they says Atlanta is the best bet,"

"Wait, wait!" Daryl stood up, "We ain' leaving Marley."

Merle scoffed at his brother and went through the bar door with his brother following close behind.

"Haha! You call her Marley. She's probably dead, Darylina," Merle said loudly, "We're goin' to Atlanta,"

"We ain' leavin er," Daryl persisted, "She saved yer damn life!"

"No!" Merle insisted, "I saved mah life, ain' no stripper got nothing to do with it,"

"She convinced me to come after you," Daryl yelled, "If she wasn't there, they coulda shot up yer ass!"

"You gon' soft fer her little brother?" Merle joked, "Keeping er safe in more way than one, huh?"

Daryl turned away from his brother, wiping the sweat dripping from his forehead. Merle laughed at his silence.

"Leave em av her," Merle said, as they finally made it to their car.

"To what?" Daryl suddenly found his voice, "Rape her? Leave her out to the walkers?"

Merle squinted at his brother, confused about why he wanted to save her so bad. Merle in his head knew what they would do to that girl. He knew it was wrong too, he just didn't want to travel all the way back near Sedalia just for one girl who can't fend for herself. Merle finally gave in and nodded to his brother. Merle took the wheel, as he knew where the club was. They drove in silence. Two brothers ready to save a girl.

+

The club was dark, as the lights didn't work anymore. The only light that entered the building was coming from the tiny windows at the top of the walls.

The had stripped Marley to her underwear and tied her to a chair on the stage. The two fat men, and the blonde man - who Marley had overheard that his name was Cooper - were sitting around like they were having a party. They had taken every single alcohol bottle from the bar and laid them out on a table in between them and Marley.

She shivered slightly from the cold, the club was normally heated up just by the fluorescent lighting. She also shivered from the evil stares that the three men were giving her.

"So boys, what shall we do with our little Mermaid now?" Cooper announced, "Any Ideas?"

One of the fat men raised his hand, and Cooper ushered him to do what he wanted, and them man-made his way to the girl.

Marley was already sobbing silently, her chest shaking with every tear that racketed her body. The man, in his hand, held a cloth. He took her neck in one hand and tilted her head to face upwards. He laid the cloth on her face gently as she whimpered. She didn't knowwhat the hell he was doing. That was until she heard him say, "Hey! Why don't you pull that lever there, I seen her use it before in her little Mermaid act."

She started squirming uncontrollably. She knew what would happen if they pulled that lever. She heard the click of a gun as the guys grasp around her neck let go. She knew that she had to keep still, or he would shoot her. She cried even more, as she heard the creak of the lever, and little drops landed on the cloth that encompassed her face. She slowly tried to move her head forward but-

"Nope!" Cooper yelled. Then suddenly, water gushed from above and landed with an almighty thud on her body. She screamed her lungs raw from the cold and shock. She started shaking even more. She tried to squirm out of her ties and her moving around made the cloth fall from her face.

He wet hair stuck to her face, and her wrists and ankles burned under the grasp of the rope. Her cries only made the men laugh, and clap their hands like they were at a regular showing.

"I got something!" Cooper announced. He rushed towards her and took her face in one of her hands, smushing her cheeks painfully. She was breathing heavily, definitely having a panic attack. He showed her a device in his hands, then said, "You killed Jimmy, didn't you?"

She shook her head in his grasp, then he took the device and placed it on her hip.

"Without Jimmy, you're nothing!" he whispered. He then turned on the device, causing her body to jolt straightly and shake violently. He had a taser in his hand.

He did it in spurts of ten seconds for five minutes, until he got bored and was met with an applause from the two other men.

She was still led in a chair, he head facing upwards, crying and breathing heavily.

They still kept laughing, until they heard an engine approaching quickly.

"What the hell is tha'?" one of the fat men said. Cooper shushed him and moved towards the door, to see what was coming.


	9. state of decay

The Dixon's car came crashing into the bar, taking out Cooper first and killing him instantly. Next the two henchmen were taken out luckily. But their deaths were slower.

"You get the girl!" Merle ordered from the driver's seat. Daryl rushed out to Marley, luckily the car hadn't touched her.

She already had purple bruises forming on her ribs, and she was dripping wet. Daryl ran over to her and untied her quickly. As he gently picked her up, she whimpered as she ached all over. She would have grabbed him, but she couldn't, and her head stayed laying back, like a doll.

Daryl walked over to the back seat with her in his arms. He looked at her face as he lowered her gently and saw in her face that she wasn't exactly coherent. All she did was whimper and cry.

+

They had stopped just outside Atlanta next to the forest. They had set up camp right next their car, and they had caught two squirrels to eat.

Merle and Daryl sat around the fire eating their squirrels whilst Marley was still in the car, crying most likely. She hadn't stopped crying since they got her from the club. Merle would have complained but seeing her with those bruises and in that state somehow silenced him.

Marley was going to stay in the car for the night whilst the Dixons took shifts in keeping watch.

Daryl was first to keep watch, and whilst Merle snored, the first thing Daryl wanted to do was check up on Marley. She hadn't said anything or moved since they had saved her.

He opened up the door, and despite it being night, her pale skin held a perfect contrast to her black bruises that looked slightly like they had branches coming from them.

She looked cold as she was only wearing underwear and she curled up in a ball like a stray cat on a doorstep.

Daryl had a blanket in his hand ready to lay over her, and as he did, he heard a content sigh come from her, and it made him smirk slightly.

+

Daryl and Merle... well, mostly Merle had taken the camp up and packed it in the boot of the car. Daryl kind of forgot that Marley was in the backseat. As he opened the door, he found she awake and dressed, cross-legged and looking out the window.

She turned her head and saw it was only his tired face. She smiled at him and scooted closer to him. He wasn't sure what she was doing until she wrapped her tiny arms around his shoulders and hugged him tightly.

He didn't know what to do, so he kind of just took one his arms and wrapped it around her back and squeezed gently momentarily. She buried her face in the crook of his shoulder.

"Thank you," he heard her say, muffled by his shoulders, "and Merle too, thank you both."

She sniffled slightly, and he could tell that she was trying not to cry. As she pulled away she put her head down and wiped her face, then looked back up to him.

The whites of her eyes were red, making her green irises become brighter and more vibrant. She shuffled back into the middle seat, ready to drive some more.


	10. silent

_**Marley's P.O.V:** _

I was still a little shaken up from what happened at "The Castle". My sides hurt every day as they healed. I was just constantly thanking the Dixon brothers for helping me, and keeping me safe.

It seemed that despite Merle saying that I should fend for myself days ago, it seemed I had woven my way into his heart. Or so I hoped so.

The three of us; Merle, Daryl and I, had fallen into a routine - one I had rarely any part in.

We spent days circling around the forest and any town near, for supplies. I would usually stay in the car whilst the boys went in the buildings. I didn't know how to hunt, and I could barely use a gun, it seemed that they had no reason to keep me safe, but they just did.

Merle had reminded me one night, as we sat around the campfire, that there was still people out there who knew me as _Ariel_ , and they wouldn't see me as anything else.

I wondered every day where the princesses had ventured off to, if they were lucky enough to get someone like Daryl and Merle to protect them, or if they could fend for themselves.

Although, if I did need to go into a place for supplies, I had made it so I wasn't hanging offDaryl's arm like I used to. That was usually only when I needed something specific.

Normally, I would hate getting dirty and not having a shower for days, but I really didn't have a choice. I currently had a three-day-old shirt on, and my hair was limp with grease and dirt and water.

We had changed vehicles, from a 5 seater to a 3 seater truck, and Merle eventually went back and got his black motorbike, which had a white supremacist sticker on it. Merle would be ahead on his motorbike, whilst Daryl and I stayed in the truck.

I rarely voiced any words to the brothers, and I had become timider than before crap hit the fan.

Merle and Daryl would always deal with the Walkers - I think that I had only dealt with one, or maybe two, and I dealt with them _terribly._ I wasn't scared of them, it's just they always seemed to be averaged taller than me, we had only seen a few shorter ones.

We had planned to make our way around Atlanta to see what was on the other side, maybe if there was a survival camp or even some survivors. At least.

I think that if I talked more, the Dixon brothers would probably have kicked me out by now. Jimmy said that to me a lot... If I had talked more than I would worse off, he found me annoying sometimes.

I did think a lot about Jimmy. Despite his bad side, he always seemed to surprise me. Even though the surprises were sparse to be good.

I remember that one night, he brought me my favourite dinner, straight from the restaurant, and he told me how he made a daring escape from the restaurant just to get this dinner to my apartment.

Jimmy paid for my apartment, he bought me dinner regularly, but he often told me it was because a pretty face like mine would be wasted on the streets.

I know I shouldn't be thinking about him, especially because he never changed, and he was now dead.

I looked over the fire to look at the person who killed Jimmy. If I had truly loved Jimmy then I wouldn't be anywhere near Daryl... I would simply resent him. But I didn't really feel anything towards Jimmy's death, I didn't even feel relief from his permanent absence. I never felt relieved, I still felt chained.

Somehow, I would have to one day let go. _Or I would die._

 


	11. the camp

_**Marley's P.O.V:** _

We had been driving for God-knows how long.

I don't think I had spoken a single word for a week, not even to myself. No. I knew that I hadn't spoken a word for a week. I don't think that I could speak if I tried since my voice-box was probably too weak from not being used.

Daryl was driving next to me, chewing on his thumbnail whilst leaning his arm on the open window. He looked more tired each day, as he was the one that took most time being on watch. It wasn't even discussed if I could keep watch, it was just silently agreed that I would never do that. 1: because I found it hard to stay awake, even in the day. 2: I couldn't fend for myself. And 3: I don't think they trusted me enough. That last one probably became better over time, because they trusted me enough to fix one of their jackets once with needle and thread. That probably wasn't a good enough reason.

 _See, I talk a lot... just in my head,_ I knew it annoyed people.

We were going slightly uphill, and I closed my window so I would get any dust in my eyes. As we made it up to the top of the hill, I saw an RV with a few other cars, and some tents roughly scattered around a put-out campfire.

A buff man, with curly black hair under a cap, lifted a heavy shotgun towards our approaching vehicles. The truck abruptly stopped, and the motorbike stopped beside us.

"The usual," Daryl muttered before hopping out and shutting the door behind him to probably speak with the man and talk to Merle. "The Usual" used to be an extended version of, "Stay here! Don't be scared to threaten anyone approaching, if they threaten you just keep them talking until we come back," but I had heard it so many times that he eventually shortened it.

I remembered Daryl and Merle were discussing once what would happen if we met some survivors, and I remember Merle telling Daryl that they would raid whatever the strangers had. I did hope that they wouldn't do that this time, this camp looked descent.

I watched as the guy slowly lowered his gun as they approached slowly, hands in the air. I couldn't hear what they were saying, and I watched as more people emerged from the camp to see who was new.

There was a tall woman clutching what looked to be her son's shoulders; two blonde women, who looked to be sisters; an older man with a fisherman's hat; an Asian boy with a baseball cap; a woman with cut short grey hair; and a scattering of other people.

The Dixon's turned to look at me when the buff man pointed at me. Daryl walked back over and opened up my door.

"Looks like we'll be staying 'ere. I think they jus' wanna' know you ain' being held agains' yer will," Daryl said quietly, and I nodded. Once again not speaking.

He opened the door wider for me whilst I got out and shut it behind me. I bravely walked over to the buff man still talking to Merle. I only caught the end of their conversation.

-"we hun', got some squirrels in the back," Merle said hoarsely. I approached them and Merle set a heavy hand on my shoulder.

"This here's Marley Van Allan... she dun' talk much... my brother saved 'er ass when shit hit the fan," he chuckled. I looked up nervously to the tall man and smiled the best I could. I had the make them think I wasn't being used as some _toy_ by the Dixons... because it was the truth.

"Well, _Marley_ , I'm Shane Walsh," he greeted as he stuck out his hand. I firmly grasped his hand with my small one, and he gently shook it. I think he saw me as some child since I was just really short and quiet.

"Well, you three can get yer stuff settled, find a spot. You two'll be a good asset. Thank you," he said at the two Dixon brothers, then he turned back to me and winked. I felt a blush creep up to my cheeks. I couldn't help it, this man was good-looking.

My bag was soon shoved into my arms, and an extra tent we had picked up a while back. I'm glad that they didn't just let me try to find and share with someone else. They knew I wouldn't want that.

+

After setting up my camp like I did most nights, I sighed in relief that I knew I wasn't going to have to take it down early in the morning.

I decided that I should probably introduce myself to people around camp, and get my voice-box working again. But I quickly changed into some fresher clothes, which I couldn't do as often around two men. I changed into some three-quarter jeans and a red plaid button-up. I then slipped on my leather boots and walked out of my tent.

I decided to look around, and see if I could bump into someone.

I walked around the camp, but I was encaptured by the view by the RV. There was a large quarry, complete with a blue sparkling lake. I saw some women, and they looked to me washing some clothes. Suddenly someone tapped my shoulder, and jumped but turned to see who it was.

It was the woman and the young boy I saw earlier.

"I thought I'd introduce myself, I'm Lori Grimes," she said shaking my hand, then turning to gesture to her son, "And this is my son Carl,"

I smiled down at the boy, as he shook my hand. I finally found my voice.

"I'm Marley Van Allan," I said.

"C'mon, I'll show you around," she said kindly and put a hand on my shoulder, ushering me around.


	12. thank you

_**Marley's P.O.V:** _

We had been at the camp for a two weeks now, and I had become quite accustomed to their agenda. I mostly did the washing and repairing of clothes. I usually had to repair my own clothes back when I worked at "The Castle".

I hadn't told anyone of my past, and whenever they asked, I tried my best to change the subject. I would usually talk about what I did before my parents died. My horse riding, my life in school, and anything that was before I turned sixteen.

I had grown close to many of the women, especially Lori and Carol. I got along with Carl as well. Shane and Glenn were nice to me. The only problem was that I found it hard to talk every day. I tried and I tried, but I just couldn't bring out any words. I didn't know why, but I think it's the fact that my brain went into survival mode. As if my brain was telling me not to trust anyone.

I did make a lot of effort to try to talk to Daryl though. It usually consisted of _"Thank you"s_ for all the squirrels that he caught. I didn't see anyone else thanking him, but I always made sure to do it myself.

He didn't really talk to me as well, my efforts to talk to him, were usually replied with deep _hmphs_ and _mhmm_. I didn't mind, though.

Today, Daryl was setting off early in the morning to go on a hunting trip, and later on, some people were going to Atlanta for supplies (and Merle would be one of those people, despite his inability to sometimes work with others.).

I wanted to see them all off as they left, and that meant getting up early.

+

I lay awake on my cot in my tent. It was dark, but I could tell that it was slowly becoming day. I put on a large jacket that Carol had given me, (over my jeggings and button-up) because the morning cold was setting in. The jacket was quite big, and went past my hands and reached my mid-thigh.

I walked out of my tent and stretched my arms. My sides ached every day, and I was sure that my injuries would be permanent. My black bruises had died down, and I was left with vain-like marking were left there. Kind of like the bruises you would see on a lightning strike victim. I thought that usually didn't happen when you got tazed, but I just put it down to me being pale and weak.

I looked round and saw that no one was up, but I saw Shane sitting atop the RV, taking a watch. He waved slightly, and I waved back yawning. I walked over to the put-out camp-firethat was nothing but darkened wood. I grabbed a water-bottle and drank from it, waiting for anyone to get up.

Soon enough, as I was staring aimlessly into the burnt wood, Daryl approached the campfire, crossbow and arrows in hand.

"Wha' you doin' up?" he asked. I was slightly taken back that he noticed that I normally alate-sleeper. I set down my water bottle, as he sat down across from me to do something with his crossbow... _I wasn't really sure_. I rubbed my eyes, and though of what to say.

"Seeing you off?" I tried. He looked at me through his eyebrows, then scoffed and smirked.

"Alrigh''" he said slightly amused. I adjusted myself to sit on the floor so that my back was against the log.

"Doing my usual thank yous," I continued, hoping he would hear my small voice.

"Like ya' always do," he said more confidently. He looked up to me from his crossbow for a moment, squinting his eyes before they returned to his crossbow.

"Are you staying out there the night?" I asked, and he simply nodded. He finished what he was doing and got up from his seat.

"I'll see ya' tomorrow," he said, and he looked conflicted and stalled like he wanted to say something more. I looked at him expectantly.

"I'll bring ya' back a rabbit," then he left into the woods.

I smiled to myself. Daryl knew that I preferred Rabbit to Squirrel, and we had been scarce of any Rabbits lately. I would have to thank him more than I usually did if he succeeded. I watched as his figure disappeared into the woods, turning into a dark shape, then turning into nothing.

+

Later on, it was time to wave off the people going to Atlanta. I first gave a small wave to Merle, who didn't return it. Then I walked over to Glenn.

I gave him a hug like I always did before he went anywhere. He didn't have any family, so I tried to be his family.

"Look out for DC, we don't have as much as we do Marvel," I smiled. He returned the smile and ruffled my hair in a brotherly fashion, before turning around and walking to the cars.

I had never been on a run before, and I didn't intend to any soon. I was much more of a help at camp than out there though I soon hoped I would one day be able to be.

Later into the day, everyone was going about their business. Dale was doing his rounds on the RV, some of the women were cooking food, and Amy was collecting some forest gatherings. Though she wasn't sure whether they were poisonous or not.

I was currently fixing one of Carl's shoes, whilst he sat beside me in on the ground playing with some toy cars. I knew he was young, but I didn't really think that toy cars entertained him anymore. That's why I tried to get him into simple and wordy games. Normally we would just discuss what we thought about things. Today we were discussing what type of people we would associate with certain names.

"What about..." he paused to think for a moment, "Tom?"

"Regal... kinda like a prince, but more down to earth. Very British," I said, pausing to look at him and smile.

"Hey, Dale, I'm heading out!" Lori shouted suddenly, making me jump, "Carl, I want you to see where Dale can see you... just stay with Marley, be good,"

He nodded at his mom, and I said from behind him, "I got him."

I knew what Lori and Shane got up to in the woods... I was just worried on whether they knew that I knew. I just made sure Carl never left my sight when they did so. I didn't want him walking in on anything.

"What about Lori?" Carl said, as soon as his mother was out of earshot. I thought for a while. I didn't want to tell him the whole truth of what sprang to mind when I heard her name.

"Mother, Pancakes... just the smell of things cooking... what do you think?" I replied. He shrugged his shoulders at my question and I laughed just as I finished fixing his shoe.

"Well, young sir, _Thou shoe_ is repaired," I said. He turned around on his knees and took the shoe from my hands to put it back on his foot.

After putting his shoe on, he stood up and hugged me from where I sat.

"Thank you,"

"Your welcome young sir," I said, ruffling his brown hair.

+

Carl had been taken by Shane to do some rope tying or something... Whilst Lori hung up some clothes behind them.

I knew about Lori's husband, and how he died whilst in a coma. I didn't know what her relationship was like with her husband before. But it must have been rocky if she let him go so easily. But I tried not to snoop around too much.

The radio on the RV started saying things. We were all panicked, and the person on the other line said they were trapped in the department store. I was worried for Glenn, and Merle (for Daryl's sake). Daryl's hardly been gone a day and his brother got himself into some deep shit before the day could end. Shane demanded we not go after them, despite the fact that I would gladly try to muster the courage for us all to go after them. Shane demanded that it was for the sake of the group. Amy did not like this.

The skies were clouding over Atlanta from where I could see it, and I'd hoped that it wouldn't come to the woods, as Daryl would be soaked out there with hardly any cover.


	13. rick grimes

_**Marley's P.O.V:** _

We hadn't heard from the CB, and there was nothing we could do but wait and see if they made it out. The worst is, that they could all die... but let's look on the bright side here.

I didn't have Carl to talk too. Amy was too paranoid to be talked to, and Carol was busy making food with Sophia. All I could do was try to find some clothes to fix, it seemed it was all I had to offer to this group.

My ears pricked up to the sound of a car alarm.

"Dale!" I shouted, looking to where the cars normally drove up to. We waited in anticipation, and Dale told us it was a stolen car as it approached, causing the alarm to get louder.

Carl stood next to me, so I covered his ears. He didn't protest, he simply wrapped his small hands around mine, pushing them tighter to his ears.

Soon enough Glenn walked out of the car, and my mind was washed with relief at the sight of him, but I was confused about where the others were.

The alarm was soon stopped and Glenn explained that everyone was okay.

"-well Merle, not so much," he said, and that made me quite worried. I knew that I would be the person eventually nominated to tell him, since I knew him better than anybody else.

I left Carl's side and walked over to Glenn. He looked glum as he was being told off by the men, so I hugged him tightly. I let go when another car emerged from where he had come. It was a U-Haul van - another stolen car.

Everyone reunited with whoever had a family. I looked behind me and saw Carl crying with his mother knelt in front of him. I knew it was hard for him to not see his dad walk up that path. To be reunited.

Glenn and I would always greet each other. He was one of my best friends, and he didn't have anyone else.

I looked back to see the rest walk out the van - Amy and Andrea hugging tightly as theywere relieved to see each other again.

It seemed that no one else would be walking out of the van, but Glenn said there was a new guy. I waited to see who it was in silence.

The man placed his hands on his hips, sighing as he approached slowly. He was looking anywhere but towards us. He was dressed in a sheriff's uniform, but it looked old and worn, and a little covered in blood.

As soon as his eyes faced us, his face fell slightly. It was the look you give someone, once you've found them, or once you were reunited. I knew that look too well, I had seen it many times in the movies, and in the apocalypse.

He stood in one spot, and I looked behind me to see who he was looking at. He was looking at Carl and Lori. That's when it hit me... this was the famous Rick Grimes, whom the young sir had told me all about.

+

"Disoriented. I guess that comes closest. Disoriented. Fear, confusion, all those thangs, but... disoriented comes closest," Rick said, as he clutched he newly found wife and son in his arms. We were all gathered round one of the campfires, listening to how he came here.

I crossed my arms in my big jacket, which I had been taking off and on all day, but I was definitely leaving it on, as it would always get slightly colder in the night.

"Words can be meagre things," Dale complained, as he set his cup on the floor, "Sometimes they fall short,"

"I felt like I'd been ripped out of my life and put somewhere else. For a while I thought I was trapped in some coma dream, something I might not wake up from, ever."

"Mom said you died," Carl said from below him.

"She had every reason to believe that. Don't you ever doubt it,"

Rick talked more about his escape from a coma, and the overrun hospital. I honestly was so tired, I was going to fall on Amy's shoulder next to me and fall asleep.

There was a dispute with Ed, about his fire, and I didn't want to think anything about him. I didn't want nightmares of Jimmy again.

I had had nightmares that I wouldn't tell anyone about. It wasn't a wake up screaming type of nightmare; it was a wake up with tears all over my face type nightmare. I rarely remembered what they were about, but I knew they were somewhat about Jimmy.

My attention was awoken when Dale said, "Have you given any thought to Daryl Dixon? Hewon't be happy to hear his brother was left behind."

"I'll tell him. I dropped the key. It's on me." T-Dog bravely announced.

"I cuffed him, that makes it mine," Rick reasoned.

"Guys, it's not a competition. I don't mean to bring race into this," Glenn intervened, "but it mind sound better coming from a white guy."

I frowned. Daryl wasn't racist, so I wasn't really sure what Glenn meant by that.

"I did what I did. Hell, if I'm gonna hide from him," T-Dog said.

"We could lie," Amy said from beside me. I shook my head violently, _drunk_ from the need to sleep.

"Nope, don't do that," I said warningly.

"Yep, we tell the truth. Tell him Merle was out of control, and we hadn't done what we did, he'd have gotten us all killed. Your husband did what was necessary," Andrea voiced.

"And tha's what we tell Daryl?" Dale asked worriedly. "I don't see a rational discussion be had from that, do you?"

There was silence, and I decided to speak up.

"I'll tell him," I said proudly.

"And who are you?" Rick asked politely.

"Marley... It was me, Daryl and Merle surviving before we found this camp,"

"You their sister?"

"Nope, I'm Van Allan, not Dixon" I laughed, "I just got lucky. I'd be dead if they hadn't found me. I'll tell him,"

"I don't know abo-"

"Look it doesn't matter who tells him... but just maybe he won't try to kill me like he would you. He doesn't even know you," I reasoned tiredly, ready to get to bed.

Everyone was silent.

"I stopped long enough to chain that door. Staircase is narrow. Maybe half a dozen geeks can squeeze against it at any one time. It's not enough to break through it - not that chain, not that padlock." T-Dog said eerily, "My point, Dixon's alive he's still up there, handcuffed on that roof. That's on us," he then got up from his seat and left.

Soon enough we all followed. But Rick stopped me as I was going to walk over to my tent.

"Are you sure, you can handle him?" Rick said, holding his hand out, which I shook.

"He's a hunter... you don't want to be on his bounty list..." I said finally, then I turned and got into my bed.


	14. dreams

_**Marley's P.O.V:** _

Although I anticipated dropping into unconsciousness when I lay in my bed. I found it hard to fall asleep. This never happened to me before.

I didn't know why. But my mother used to tell me when I was younger and couldn't sleep: "You do not sleep, either because you have run out of dreams, or you know you are going to have a bad one".

Being only ten when she told me this, I didn't quite understand at the time, but I think now I did.

What nightmare did my mind have in stall for me? Or did I run out of dreams?

It was obvious to me that I was slowly losing hope each day. I walked around camp in my silence each day, and I couldn't see myself doing that for the rest of my life, no matter how short it would be.

I knew that one day I would die. I had sure convinced myself I would die from being weak. Bitten by a walker or just falling awkwardly on my knife would do it.

I tried to think of anything that I could dream about. Anything I could anticipate for.

I found nothing... I felt empty.

+

I had fallen asleep that night and didn't dream of anything. Which was expected.

I got dressed into some ripped jeans and a large thin sweater. Trying to tame my bed-head, I was reminded that I would go days without brushing it, and I hadn't seen a mirror in weeks.

I used to be someone who cared so much for her looks, yet now, I hardly thought about it until now.

Shaking my head, I walked out of my tent and looked around to get an idea of what was happening.

Only a few people were up, and they looked to be doing everything with sleep in their walk. I figured I would be doing the same.

I knew Daryl was returning today (hopefully with a rabbit), and I would be the one to break the new to him.

As I walked to the edge of the woods to wait for him, I tried to come up with what I was going to say...

 _"Hey Daryl, can I talk to you?" -_ Ah no, too awkward.

 _"Daryl Merle was left..." -_ No too sudden

 _Wait?_ Why was I doing this like I was about to reveal an incredibly intimate thing with him? Then I did realise I was awkward as I was, so practicing would not help me in any way.

I sit on the floor, staring into the depths of the forest. I found it quite strange that I was just waiting for him, like a puppy at the door.

"Marley?" I heard a voice from behind me, I turned around and it was Lori.

"Can you help me with these clothes please?" she said sweetly. I nodded, leaving my place on the floor to help her hang up some clothes.

As I was hanging up the clothes next to her, gently humming a random tune, from the corner of my eye, I saw Rick approach us.

"Morning Officer," Lori smiles at her husband.

"Hey," he simply says. By this time, I was smiling to myself. I had always wanted to bemarried - the white picket fence deal, have kids and grow old with my husband.

Again with the running out of hope thing. I tuned out as I was thinking about Jimmy Blake again.

I wondered whether he would have proposed to me at any time, or if he had given it any thought.

I knew I shouldn't be thinking about him... Daryl wouldn't like it if he knew I was.

Suddenly a high-pitched scream hit the air, everyone instantly jumping into the woods to find the source of the screams.

To me: they sounded like Carl's and Sophia's. I really wanted to go after them, straight after Lori and Rick.

I made a short sprint to the forest but stopped short right on the outskirts.

My hands turned into fists at my sides. _Come on, you can do it._

It would be the first time I would be going out into the woods without _his_ arm to hold. Being out in the open was different, but the forest held shadows and trees people could hide behind... or walkers.

I was angry with myself and I scrunched up my face, before turning away and walking to the middle of the camp. Kicking the dirt in annoyance. I crossed my arms over my chest and turned to look at the forest, waiting.

Soon enough a few women and the children returned with scared looks on their faces. Where were the other?

All the men that entered the forest were still there. I took one step forward... trying... trying to convince myself to go out there. But I came up with nothing.

"Merle!" I heard from a distance. Ah, shit! That was Daryl.

He strutted out of the forest with a string of squirrels on his shoulder, as he set his crossbow down, repeating his words.

I hurriedly walked over to him, but before I could get any words out... just as I got close enough to whisper to him, Shane interrupted.

"Daryl, just slow up a bit. I need to talk to you," he said. I put my hands up as if to say, I can handle this. Daryl noticed this and eyed me.

"'Bout what?" he said, still looking down at me.

"Merle... um?" I mumbled, "there was a bit of a thing that happened in Atlanta."

_How fucking stupid! That was the worst!_

"He dead?" he said, now directing his speech towards Shane, and pacing away from me. I watched his face, it was just waiting for the worst.

"We're not sure"

"He either is or he ain'" Daryl retorted, jerking his head in annoyance.

"Well, Daryl, it's complicated," I said sadly. He looked to me in disbelief.

"It ain' complicated,"

"No easy way to say this, so I'll just say it." Rick said, approaching us both. Daryl and I were in the middle of the camp, whilst everyone looked at us like animals in a zoo.

"Who are you?" He asked pointedly.

"Rick Grimes,"

"Rick Grimes!" He mocked, "You got something you wanna tell me?"

"You're brother was a danger to us all," Rick said simply. I huffed in annoyance and kept a close eye on Daryl. Watching to see if his muscles twitched in anger or if he reached for a weapon.

"So I handcuffed him onto a roof - hooked him onto a piece of metal. He's still there," Rick finished, staying in his position stiffly.

Daryl turned away from him and lifted a hand to wipe his face. Tears? I had never personally seen a Dixon cry. They sure as hell had seen me cry, that's for sure.

"Hol' on, le' me process this!" Daryl retorted, twirling his finger in a loopy manner, "you're saying you handcuffed ma brother to a roof... and you left him there?!" He was now yelling whilst everyone stayed quiet.

Rick looked away as he said a small, "Yeah."

I quickly put my gaze on Daryl, seeing what he would do. He stepped back, an angry and sour look on his face.

Suddenly he launched his string of squirrels at Rick, although it made me duck too, as I was in close proximity to Daryl.

Rick also ducked and missed them. I put my hands to my mouth when Shane tackled Daryl to the ground when he tried to go for Rick.

Daryl, from his position on the ground, drew out a knife.

"Daryl!" I screeched, he ignored me and started swiping his knife horizontally, hoping to gut Rick.

It all went a bit complicated as Rick and Shane went into full police mode. Rick taking out Daryl's knife and Shane grasping him in a painful choke-hold.

"You bes' le' me go!" he growled. Shane said otherwise.

"Chokehold's illegal!"

"Yeah, well you can file a complaint,"

I stomped over to the three men, angry at all of them.

"This isn't funny," I said angrily, trying to look as intimidating as my small person could be.

The men yet again ignored me, but at least Daryl looked at me as he started breathing heavily under Shane's tight grasp.

"I'd like to have a calm discussion on this topic. You think we can manage that?" Rick interrogated, "You think we can manage that?"

I could see that Daryl couldn't even nod from the position he was in. I knelt beside Rick on my knees, getting dry dirt on my jeggings.

"Let him go," I said calmly to Shane. Shane looked me in the eye, then to his captive, then he shook him from his arms.

I scooted closer to Daryl who was now on the ground and panting heavily. He only took one glance at me, but I worriedly kept my focus on him.

"What I did was not on a whim," Rick assured.

"Like hell-" I started but was cut off by him repeating his words. I scowled at him.

Merle and Daryl weren't _mine_ or even my children, but I did _owe_ my life to them, so I cared deeply for _both_ of them.

"You're brother does not work and play well with others," Rick continued.

"It's not Rick's fault," another voice called, I recognised it as T-Dog and turned my head like everyone else to look at him.

"I had the key, I dropped it."

"Couldn' pick it up!" Daryl accused angrily

"I dropped it down a drain."

Daryl let out and exasperated sigh and crawled up to get on me feet, and I slowly stood up as well, brushing the dirt from my knees.

"S'posed to make me feel better it don'!" Daryl yelled, swinging his arm through the air, throwing dirt to the ground.

"Maybe this will," T-Dog reasoned, "Look I chained the door to the roof so the geeks couldn't get at him, with a padlock,"

_I knew what Daryl was going to want to do now._

"It's gotta count fer something," Rick reasoned, once again.

I walked a bit closer.

"The hell with all y'all!" Daryl yelled, and I could tell he was repressing his sobs, but I had never seen a Dixon cry.

"Just tell me where he is, so's I can go get 'im,"

"He'll show you," Lori said from the sidelines, "Isn't that right,"

She had directed it at Rick, so now everyone was looking at him, wondering what she was talking about.

"I'm going back," he confessed.

Daryl walked off, and I hesitated to follow him.

I _did_ follow him.


	15. letting go

**_Marley's P.O.V:_ **

I followed Daryl as he picked up his crossbow in a swift motion and made his way towards his tent.

Breathing heavily, my feet followed his much faster pace towards his tent. He must have known I was following him, as he glanced over his shoulder but kept on walking. He finally made it to his tent and walked inside whilst I stayed outside.

I wasn't sure why I had followed him. I always seemed to be following him. But that's what ultimately kept me alive.

"Daryl," I called out. He didn't reply. I called out again, and still no reply. I opened up the flap door of the tent, bending down to look inside. He was sat on his cot, doing things with his crossbow that I never really understood. He looked up at me as I looked in, then quickly averted his gaze. Like he wasn't worrying himself it wasn't me.

Honestly no one had anything to worry about. I was all pale skin and bones, words were my only defence and they still fell short.

"I was meant to tell you," I said as I stepped in and looked down at him. I knitted my hands together in front of me, like a child up for room inspection. "I'm pretty pissed at them too if it's any consolation," I licked my lips nervously. He still said nothing but scoffed angrily.

"What?" I cocked an eyebrow at him, he returned it with his beady stare.

"Don't look at me like that," I sneered, "he's not my brother but-"

"What? you care for him!" he interrupted rudely, standing from his place and geting up in my face. I slapped his shoulder, only for him to snatch up my wrist.

"Don' touch me girl!" he growled in my face.

"You gonna' hit me or something?" I whispered. He let go of my wrist roughly and looked angrier than before. I had hit a nerve there.

"I was going to ask you to stop treating me like a child. But since you act like a child yourself, I shouldn't really bother."

I stormed out of his tent, fuming with embarrassment and anger. What I said was true - he was like a child. He didn't quite grasp, or even seem the remember that he saved my life, and Merle had a part in that. He doesn't seem to understand that because he saved me, that I actually cared about him in some form. When someone saves your life, you're supposed to be thankful. Did he think that my simple "thank you's" were enough for me, because they weren't. No amount of thank you's could make up for what he did for me.

As I walked back to the centre of the camp, I walked in on Rick and Shane fighting on what to do.

"Why would you risk your life for a douche bag like Merle Dixon?" Shane asked Rick, rather loudly.

"Hey, choose your words more carefully," Daryl warned from behind me, nearly making me jump out of my skin - I didn't know he had followed me.

Shane however, didn't miss a beat in saying, "No, I did. Douche bag's what I meant."

"Stop," I said, exasperated. I soccer-mom'd Daryl as he took half a step forward, obviously not wanting Shane to get away with that remark.

He glared at me, and took the half step back, sitting down on a log behind him. I crossed my arms over my chest, sweltering in the georgian sun.

"Merle Dixon," Shane started, "the guy wouldn't give you a glass of water if you were dying of thirst."

"What he would or wouldn't do doesn't interest me," Rick said firmly, trying to get his point across, despite the clearly not having the best person to root for. "I can't let a man die of thirst - me. Thirst and exposure. We left him like and animal caught in a trap. That's no way for anything to die, let a lone a human being."

 _Damn straight_ , I thought. I was starting to like this Rick Grimes. He seemed like a good guy despite the short time I had known him.

I stepped forward, "Just to add to Merle's case, he helped save my life," I reasoned, "so there it is." I stepped back after saying my piece. Rick looked to me surprised, and then turned to Shane who sighed as he had lost the argument.

"So you and Daryl, that's your big plan?" Lori asked. She also made me jump out of my skin, people were just popping up all around me.Rick turned to Glenn.

"Oh, come on," Glenn whined. He took off his hat and wiped the sweat that had gathered on his forehead. Rick reasoned with how good Glenn was at getting in and out. I had never seen in person how good he was, but Glenn once told me he used to deliver pizzas, so he must be good.

I saw Glenn nod, agreeing to go. But Mr. Walsh wasn't having it.

"That's just great. Now you're gonna risk three men, huh?" Shane scoffed, putting his hands on his hips.

"Four," T-Dog popped up. Again with the people just popping up and scaring me.

Daryl huffed from his seat, cleaning his arrows with one of his many handkerchiefs, "My day just gets better and better don't it?"

I rolled my eyes slightly at his remark. Would he at least try to get along with people? He was one of those people who just instantly hated everyone around him that wasn't his brother - I don't even think he like his brother that much.

"You see anybody else here stepping up to save your brother's cracker ass?" T-Dog says to him. Daryl looks at me for a moment before looking to T-Dog.

"Why you?"

"You wouldn't even begin to understand. You don't speak my language." T-Dog replies. He was right there.

"So four?" Dale says.

"It's not just four. You're putting every single one of us at risk. Just know that, Rick," Shane said angrily.

I couldn't argue with him there. I hardly knew how to use a gun. My dad, despite being a dentist, liked camping and hunting, quite like Daryl actually. He tried to get me to camp with him and even let me shoot a gun when I was only ten. But me being me, I wanted to stay at home and bake with my mother and experiment with my hair. At least he tried.

People were arguing. Rick talked about a bag of guns he dropped. Soon enough, Lori was arguing with them.

I didn't know what to do. I couldn't help them, and the only thing I did was sew all day and look after Carl. Eventually, the four men were getting ready to head into Atlanta, using the cube-van they came in last time.

No one could see my inner struggle. I really wished that I wasn't such a wimp and was scared of everything. I wished I could help better than fixing people's shoes. Eventually the cube-van pulled out, after a very impatient Daryl yelled for them to do so.A hand was laid on my shoulder, and turned to see it was Amy.

"You wanna come down to the water and wash clothes?" she said sweetly. Maybe she saw my inner struggle? I really liked Amy, she was always nice to me. I had never heard a harsh word from her to me.

I nodded and she passed me a basket of dirty clothes, that I had to turn my nose away from so that the smell of old sweat and dirt didn't plague my thoughts for the rest of the day.

+

Me, Amy, Andrea, Carol and Jacqui were all gathered at the water's edge. Carol, Amy, and Andrea had their bare feet in the water, sitting on empty boxes, scrubbing at clothes with brushes and washboards. Me and Jacqui were laying the clothes on a drying mechanism we made. I had the ends of my jeggings rolled up to me knees to I could walk in the cool water that relieved me slightly of the heat bestowed on me from the blue skies.

"Can someone please tell me how the women wound up doing all the Hattie Mcdaniel work?" Jacqui asked, wringing out a wet shirt.

"The world ended, didn't you get the memo," Amy joked. I laughed under my breath.

"It's just the way it is," Carol said after a long pause, in her usual quiet voice. I handed her another dirty pair of trousers.

It was silent for a moment, and I looked up from the drying rack and saw Ed smoking a cigarette, leaning his backside against a car. He eyed us all dangerously and I quickly averted my gaze back to the clothes in my hand.

"I do miss my maytag," Carol said meekly, referring to her former washing machine.

"I miss my Benz, my sat-nav," Andrea added.

"I miss my coffeemaker with that dual-drip filter and built-in grinder, honey!" Jacqui reminisced, smiling at the sky. I hummed in agreement - I didn't particularly like coffee, but I did miss my tea.

"My computer... texting," Amy huffed, looking out to the water in sadness.

"I miss baking... chocolate, and my polaroid camera," I contributed. Amy smiled and continued washing clothes.

"I miss my vibrator," Andrea confessed truthfully. We all smiled and started laughing.

"Me too," Carol unexpectedly said. That made us all laugh a little harder. I didn't think I had a laugh inside me until that moment. I was glad that we could laugh, it seemed that none of us had done that in a while.

My smile fell as Ed approached us, a cigarette held between his fat fingers. Carol's husband always made me nervous.

"What's so funny?" he asked,

"Just swapping war stories Ed," Andrea said to him. We all fell silent as he started pacing slowly behind them all. I was facing the other way so I could see eveything he was doing. He puffed out a breath of deadly smoke, and continued with his predator-like pacing. It was as if he was looking for the best time to strike, or wanted to know who would challenge him and find their weak-spot.

"Problem Ed?" Andrea asked, annoyed with his pacing, instead of my being scared of it.

"Nothin' that concerns you. And you ought to focus on your work. This ain't no comedy club." Ed pointed at all of us.

I shakingly put down the shirt that was in my hand. I tried to swallow down the cotten-ball-feeling that was stuck in my throat. That feeling you get whenever your going to cry - like a bottle of water being squeezed so the liquid gathers at the top before it spills out.

"Ed, tell you what," Andrea started, getting up and walking closer to Ed, who towered over her, "You don't like how your laundry is done, you are welcome to pitch in and do it yourself. Here." With the last word, she threw the shirt in her hands at him, only for him to catch it and throw it back at her, hitting her in the chest.

"Ain't my job missy," Ed quirked an eyebrow, puffing out yet another breath of deadly gas.

Carol tried to reason with Andrea to stop, but she kept challenging him. Unlike everyone else, who were now accumulating towards Ed, I stayed with my feet in the water, wanting it all to go away.

It eventually got to the point where Ed slapped Carol, and everyone was dragging her away from him. I rushed over to Amy who had her arms around Carol, and I put my arms around her too. Ed was too big, and we couldn't keep him from trying to get at his wife. Andrea was doing her best, but soon enough, his weight was dragged away.

I let go of Carol, and stepped around everyone to see Shane with Ed on the ground. He was laying multiple punches to Ed's face. Ed's face was slowly becoming a red bloody mess at the end of Shane's fist. Everyone but me eventually started telling Shane to stop.

I wasn't sure on whether Ed deserved for him to stop. My view was slightly fucked up because of Jimmy Blake.

Shane did stop, giving him one last kick and stalking off back to camp. Carol pried herself from the women's arms and walked over to her husband. Crying that she was sorry, and they both had bloodied lips to match.

This brought back memories of my former boyfriend.

Everytime I tell people that Daryl saved my life, was I talking of him killing Jimmy, or him saving me from those three men? What would Jimmy have done?

Jimmy would have never gotten me that far. Jimmy was an asshole.

As well as not wanting to be scared anymore, I didn't want to miss Jimmy in any way anymore.

Maybe they coincided with each other? Maybe if I truly let go of Jimmy, then I could get better?

I had to let go of Jimmy Blake.

And I think I just did.


	16. peggy

_**Marley's P.O.V:** _

_"How's your pasta?" I asked, looking up from my own plate to look at James. He sat across from me, looking at his fork in distaste._

_"You made it better last time," he said annoyed._

_"Do you want me to make you somethin-"_

_"No," he interrupted, shoving the fork back into his mouth. I ate more of my food, but when I looked up he had stopped eating and simply stared at me._

_He took his glass of water, held it over the floor for a second before dropping it to the ground, shattering it into pieces. I winced at the harsh noise._

_"I heard you didn't go to work the other day," he accused, venom dripping off every word like a snake._

_"I had to go to the doctors... I phoned Tony," I squeaked._

_"You don't understand that Tony needs you in order for him to be on my side."_

_"I was scared I got that virus going around."_

_"Why didn't you come to me if you was so scared?"_

_I swallowed the lump in my throat. I was getting more scared by the minute._

_"You're not a doctor," I finally confessed._

_"You still didn't come to me," He raised his voice, gripping the table cloth in his fists._

_"You're not a doctor though," I unintentionally raised my own voice._

_He yanked the table cloth, and I ducked to the wall behind me. Plates shattered to the floor as he screamed, "Don't raise your voice at me Ariel!"_

_He picked up another glass and threw it at the wall beside me. One of the broken pieces nicked my cheek, and I turned my head away.Tears rolled down my cheeks as I clutched them in pain. He could have blinded me._

_I heard my living room door shut loudly, and I finally let out loud sobs. Filling the room with the sound of my cries._

+

"How'd you get that scar on your cheek?" Carl asked as we hung up clothes.

"Fell off my horse when I was a kid," I lied quickly, "You're very observant, not many people notice it."

"You had a horse?" Carl smiled as we hung up the last pair of socks. I ducked under the washing line and put and arm around his shoulders. I lead him to my tent.

"Wait out here," I whispered to him.I ducked into my tent for a second, and grabbed the small black notebook that was beside my purple backpack. I came out and said a small, "come on," to Carl and lead him back to the centre of the camp.

We both sat on the logs near the fire. I opened up my notebook and flipped through the pages until I found what I needed. It was a picture of my horse when I was younger - it showed my sandy coloured horse with a much younger me atop its saddle. The younger me had short hair to the chin and a cheesy grin on my face.

"What was its name?" Carl asked, taking the picture from my hands to closer inspect it.

"Peggy."

"Peggy?"

"After _Peggy Carter,_ " I said, and he looked at me like he didn't know what I was talking about. I laughed at his confused face.

"Any more pictures?" He asked, handing the picture back to me. I nodded and handed the black book to him.

I watched as he flipped through the pages, holding drawings and pictures stuck in with glue.

"Who's this?" he asked, pointing to a picture of me and Jimmy sitting on a beach. Of all the pictures, he _had_ to choose that one. The people in the picture were smiling at the camera, arms around each others waist.

"He was my boyfriend," I cringed, and took the book slowly from his hands and closed it.

"What happened to him?" he asked innocently, not aware of who James used to be.

"What happens to everyone," I said curtly, closing the book in his hands and taking it away from him. I looked at his face, and saw hurt in his eyes. I ruffled his hair.

"You okay?" I asked worriedly.

"I just hope that doesn't happen to my dad," he said in a small voice.

I didn't know what to say to him. I could tell him the lie to him, or let him worry. Surely this was a subject for his mother to discuss with him.

"It's okay if you don't wanna say anything," he smiled at me, and I was astonished at how grown-up he was in that moment. I smiled back at him in appreciation.

I saw Lori in the corner of my eye, and I turned to her nodding at her son.

"You're mom wants you young sir," I said to Carl, standing up and wiping my hands on the back of my jeggings.

He ventured off towards her, and they headed off in the direction of where he usually did most of his school work. It was also the direction in which Jim had been tied to a tree.

Jim had started digging holes, but I knew that he was digging graves out there. We eventually convinced him to come back to camp and rest - by convince I mean Shane had to pin him down, all whilst he reminisced about his family dying in front of him.

I didn't know Jim's backstory till then. He was just the bearded man with a cap that was good at mechanics. I always found him slightly creepy, so maybe that's why I didn't get to know him.

"Marley?"

I turned around at the voice, and find it is Andrea with a desperate look in her eyes.

"Look, Marl', I need you to distract Amy away from the RV so I can find some wrapping paper for her birthday present. Can you do that?" she whispers to me quickly.

I quirk an eyebrow at her request, but nod anyway.

I look around and find Amy is actually walking towards us.

"Hey Amy, can you help me with something?" I say unsuspiciously to her.

"What with?" she says back.

Oh God, I don't know! I rack my brain for ideas, and come up with a slightly stupid one, but it has to do.

"With a drawing." I put out a hand for her to grab, and look at Andrea, who is watching the scene unfold in suspense.

"Sorry, Marley, but I really can't draw."

I roll my eyes and snatch up her hand and drag her towards my tent. "You don't need to draw honey."

We make it to my tent, and I explain to her that I want to draw her. This should keep her away for more than enough time. She sits on my cot, and I sit on the floor. I take out my notebook, and an extremely short and worn out pencil that is seeing the last of its days.It's silent while I draw her face. She's looking off into the distance, showing off her profile.

"Marley?" she asks, and I nod in response, not looking at her face.

"Tell me about yourself." This statement seems to come out of the blue, and I pause my drawing for a moment.

"What do you want to know?" I ask nervously.

"Well, your life seems to pause when you turn sixteen." she confesses, "You don't seem to say what happened after that."

"Because it was a shitty life, after my sixteenth birthday." I confessed myself, not wanting to get into it.

"What happened?" Amy furthered on, clearly not knowing that I didn't want to talk about it. I knew that people would see me in a different light if I told them about my job. Whenever people knew before, they just asked whether I was just a stripper, and nothing more. People could be ass-holes.

"Nothing good... that seemed good at the time." I said, drawing a last wipe of my pencil, and finishing up my drawing.It seemed Amy gave up on her quest for knowledge, but when I looked up to her, she seemed annoyed at my lack of giving in.

"I'm done."

She quickly got up from her seat, muttering a snide, "you're welcome," as she ducked through the door.

I looked down to my drawing of her face. I was happy and upset. No One knew about me, yet I wanted that to happen.There was only one person who knew. And he didn't know the whole of it.

+

Amy and Andrea had been fishing earlier. The fishing resulted in a large catch of food for us all. It certainly put a smile on everyone's faces. So as we sat around the fire, a delicious meal slowly filling our stomachs, we all laughed and smiled.

I was sat beside Shane on our own log, sitting my tray on my thighs as I shovelled the delicious fish into my mouth. We paired it with rice, that we usually paired things with. But with this particular meal, it made my mouth water.

Shane let put sentences of appreciation from beside me, and it made me smile. Everyone was happy. Carl was on the other side, nibbling at his food. Some people had beer, but I refused to have one and stuck with water.

I wasn't paying attention to anyone or anything but the beauty that was on my plate, until Dale busts out in full monologue.

"I like what, um, a father said to son when he gave him a watch that had been handed down through generations. He said, "I give you the mausoleum of all hope and desire, which will fit your individual needs no better than it did mine or my father's before me; I give it to you not that you may remember time, but that you may forget it for a moment now and then and not spend all of your breath trying to conquer it."

I had obviously listened in at the right time, because he had said something very profound and beautiful. The end of is small speech came with silence from everyone, small smiles evident on their faces.

"You're so weird," Amy comments, making everyone laugh.

"That's William Faulkner, isn't it?" I ask Dale, and makes an impressed face at me.

"Ah very good, Marley. Excuse my bad paraphrasing," he said to me. I shrugged in understanding.

Amy got up from her seat and said she needed to go pee.

We all carried on eating as she walked to the RV.

I was thinking back to what Dale had said about time. How we could forget about time. I was thinking about how I didn't even know what day it was, or I never worried in the morning about whether I would get to work on time or not. We could finally forget about something that destroys all things. And yet we worry about how much of it we have left.

Amy said something about toilet paper from the RV, then she screamed. Not normally something you couple together.

I looked up from my plate as others did, seeing a walker biting their way into her forearm. My breath hitched at the sight, and I was reminded about how much of a wimp I was.

Amy was gone in that moment, I knew that there was no going back.

Someone... I think it was Shane, accidentally pushed me forwards as they bolted up from theirs. The next thing I knew, I was spreading my hands out to stop myself from falling to the ground, but my hands found fire.

The rocks around the burning wood wasn't tall enough to stop me from going over them and sticking my hands in the red and orange mess.

I let out a painful scream as I scrambled to get away from the searing in my hands. It hurt more than anything I had been inflicted with before. And I had been inflicted with a lot.

Surely, I managed to get away from the fire, shifting backwards. My screams stopped and were replaced with shock. Then I could hear everyone else's screams.

Walkers were slowly filling the camp and attaching our members.I got up from the ground, slightly in a daze. I headed somewhere I wouldn't go before without a certain someone. I headed to the woods, dodging walkers left and right, scared out of my mind.

The most surprising thing was that I was not crying, but simply had my hands up to my chest.

I was soon in the maze of trees, running like a maniac, the sounds of cries and screams getting more distant the more I ran. My breathing was heavy, and I was quickly running out of energy I didn't know I had.

Gun shots. Gun shots silencing their violent sound. That's what made me stop.

I didn't know where I was, and I realised that I was lost. I spun in circles, looking for anywhere I could go, but I only lost the direction I came in.

How could Daryl track through forests? It all looked the same to me.

I walked further on, hoping I was going the right way.

Wanting to just go to bed.

 


	17. feelings

_**Third Person P.O.V:** _

Marley wasn't anywhere in sight; That's the first thing Daryl thought.

Many people had died that night. But it couldn't be Marley. _It just couldn't,_ he thought to himself.

People were crying, bodies were strewn everywhere. Gaping holes in their stomach or rotted skin on their faces. He recognised none of them as Marley. Where was she?

"Who's here y'all? Who's here?" Shane announced. Everyone looked around them, hugging and grasping at their loved ones. No one said a word though.

"Okay, who's not here?" Rick said, tears evident in his voice.

People listed off names gravely, but when it came to Marley's name, Glenn spoke up.

"But she's not here," Glenn had noticed it too.

"What d'you mean man?" Shane asked, walking towards him slightly.

"I mean... the other people... I can... find, uh, their bodies." Glenn stuttered.

"I don't see hers." Daryl inputted lowly. Shane looked around, quirking an eyebrow.

"Look in her tent... or something, she's probably hiding." He said to them both, who looked at each other for a moment, then turned and walked the short distance to her tent. They found it empty.

Glenn and Daryl looked at each other gravely. Marley had gotten herself lost. They made a silent agreement, confirmed with a nod. They would find Marley.

"Hey guys!" Glenn announced, walking back over to the centre. Daryl close at his heels.

"Marley's missing!"

Again, it was silent. A little sniff here and there, but it was a universal fact that they didn't know where she was.

"Is anyone else missing?" Shane asked everyone. His booming voice seeming a little too loud. Like the gunshots they had heard earlier.

Again - there was that silence. It held a cold foretelling in it. Yet it seemed to hold nothing at all.

"Just Marley." Shane said exasperated. He wiped the back of his hand on his forehead, a bead of sweat threatening to blind him.

"Where would she go?" Glenn said desperately. Glenn was close to Marley. She saw that he was sometimes lonely. He didn't single him out. He liked that about her. He didn't tell anyone, but he had something an inch away from a crush on her. He couldn't help that - she was utterly gorgeous. Even Daryl had admitted that to himself. The redneck, who supposedly didn't have... what are they?... feelings. And yet, that first night where he saw her eyes in full glory - Daryl Dixon admitted to himself that she was pretty.

Eyes turned to the redneck in question. They asked the question Glenn had voiced.

"How should I kno'?" he said.

"Look, Daryl. Just work with us here." Shane said to him.

"I've never seen her go anywhere but the camp and the quarry." Lori voiced up, her arms coiled around her son's shoulders.

There it was again. That silence. Seeming to creep up on them at any moments notice.

"The woods?" a small voice was suddenly heard. The men looked around, but Lori only had to look below her at the boy in her arms.

"Carl?" Rick asked, a calm authoritative tone in his voice. This was a full investigation now.

"I... I think I saw her go into the woods," Carl's voice was as childlike as it was before. He sniffled his tears, seeming to go into Sheriff mode just like his dad.

"She wouldn't do tha'" Daryl said, as if it were obvious, "she's petrified of tha' woods." Daryl swung the shotgun on his shoulders.

"She's also terrified of everything else... including walkers." Shane reminisced. No one needed to be close to her to know... Marley was an utter wimp sometimes. But Daryl felt as if Shane was poking fun at her. Sure it was true... but no need to be a bitch about it. Then Daryl thought he was overreacting inside his own head.

"Well, I think Carl is telling the truth," Rick announced, patting his son on the shoulders. "Daryl, you can track animals?"

"Course."

"Then can you track her?" Rick asked, "I mean... she can't have gone far." Rick scratched at his chin, worried about the girl he had said few words to. He just wanted one good thing to come out of that night. There was too much tragedy.

"It's too dark," Daryl didn't want to have to say that, but it was true. Torches hardly helped. You couldn't see the whole forest floor.

"D'you think she'll make it back," Glenn worried.

"She can't have gone far." Rick repeated his words, convincing himself along with the others around him.

Daryl slumped his shoulders in defeat. She would be out there all night. He'd hoped that she would find somewhere to sleep. He always remembered that she slept a lot. She would find a tree to climb up, or maybe even her lucky self would find a tent out there. After all, she did randomly find his uncle's cabin.

They ended up not going out to find her. People were scared and people were tired. They couldn't risk sending out their best people in the dark after being attacked by a bunch of walkers.

Marley would have to wait the night. _Somewhere_ they didn't know where she was.

Daryl took watch that night, atop the RV. He couldn't sit still. His eyes trained on the edge of the woods. He expected her to come running out of them, hair knotted and screaming her lungs raw. But he heard what he heard earlier. Silence.

Sure there was the odd rustle of trees and bird tweet. But he was listening for a certain sound. Anything from her mouth he would recognise if she had made one in that moment. Even a simple breath.

Him being Daryl Dixon, he didn't recognise these thoughts as anything stronger than acquaintance. At least didn't fully understand them.

He saw her in a different light than anyone else in this camp. To everyone else, she was a young girl who used to ride a horse and whose parents were dentists. He saw her as the girl who was under her boyfriend's thumb, but still seemed to keep herself together, and was treated crappy by just about everyone else in her life.

+

"We'll have Daryl," Rick announced in his authoritative voice, "take Glenn, he's too jumpy and worried to stay here," he then said to Daryl.

Morning had broken, and the strongest had woken up early. Rick and Shane were assigning jobs to people. Things like making sure the dead were really dead.

Daryl was slightly annoyed to be taking the "chinaman" with him. But he didn't want to complain. He just wanted to get to finding Marley.

Daryl nodded and Glenn followed him into the treeline. Daryl entered full tracker mode. Each bent leaf meant something. Every moss cut meant something. At least he knew what they meant.

Glenn however was a nervous wreck. His big heart couldn't take any more worry. He truly was close to Marley. He had admitted to himself that he definitely had a crush on her. But then a thought struck Glenn.

"She always said that you saved her." Glenn stated to the hunter next to him. Daryl didn't answer.

"Daryl?" he furthered on. Glenn wanted to know why Marley vouched for the grumpy man all the time. Daryl stopped in his tracks and straightened his posture. He looked over his shoulder to Glenn with an annoyed look on his face. Glenn gulped, but repeated his statement.

"Ain' she told you," Daryl said in an annoyed voice. He turned and continued with his tracking, Glenn slowly following him.

"Well... she told me about her parents... and her horse riding... but she always talked about how you saved her. She just never elaborated."

"Ain' mah place to say anythin' then." Daryl said lastly. He'd hoped that she wouldn't elaborate too much. Only him and Marley knew about Jimmy Blake's death. Add Merle to it, and then it was only them three who knew about the three men in that bar.

Glenn silenced himself of asking anymore questions.

Daryl kept his eyes peeled on the ground. He had a clear trail in front of him. Her short steps echoing on the ground. The tracks came to a tree just a few metres ahead of them. The tree had a small chasm at the bottom of the trunk.

He held up his hand to stop Glenn, and put his finger to his lips to signal him to stay quiet.Whilst Glenn looked on, Daryl crouched down and slowly approached the tree. For all he knew, he could have been following an animal this whole time.

He stopped just outside, seeing a curled up figure in the dark of the chasm.

"Marley?" he called out. A slight rustling of dead leaves - _she must have jumped_ , he thought.

"Daryl?" she whispered back. Now he could clearly see her green eyes, illuminated despite the darkness.

"Marley." he said again, waited for her to crawl out. She didn't though, just stayed kneeling on the ground of the little home she had made.

"Daryl?"He was confused slightly.

"Yeah." Daryl confirmed. He reached out a hand into the darkness. She faltered a moment, before reaching out her own hand.

She was in deep pain, both physically, and mentally. She felt guilty for running away, and she didn't have anyone see to her burnt hands.

She slid her small hand into his much larger one. Glenn had joined Daryl on the ground, peering slightly over Daryl's shoulder.

"You coming out?" Glenn said quietly, as not to scare her. She was like a small baby animal - any loud noise would scare her.

Then Daryl noticed how her hand felt weird. Not that he had held a lot of hands in his life - but they weren't right. They felt slightly wet and smooth in some places. But like plastic He held her hand in both of his, and turned it over so the palm faced upwards.

"Oh, God," Glenn hissed at the sight. They did look painful. Red, and slightly swolen. Her hand was littered with blisters. It was luckily just a second degree burn, despite being so close to the fire.

"What happened?" Glenn asked her.

"Someone... pushed me. I fell into the fire." she stated in a whisper. Daryl now held both her hands, inspecting them gently.

"We need ta ge' back." Daryl said, still in a quiet voice. She took this as a sign to get out. Whilst Daryl held her wrists, she shuffled on her knees, and ducked out of the tree trunk.

Despite running crazy-like through the forest for a whole night, and sleeping on a pile of dead leaves, Glenn and Daryl had to hide their short intakes of breath at how beautiful she looked when the light hit her face.

She smiled sadly at them from the ground, and went to get up, but toppled at the weakness of her legs. She must have used all her energy last night, and hardly got any sleep.

Should I carry her? Daryl thought. This would be the second time carrying her. This time, at least, she would be conscious. But that made Daryl all the more nervous and embarassed.I shouldn't be having these stupid feelings, he thought. Daryl didn't want to have attraction to this girl. He tried to stop it. Trying didn't exactly mean he would succeed. She doesn't even like me back so it's useless, he said to himself.

He did what he was screaming inside not to do. He picked her up.

Glenn glared at him slightly when he wasn't looking. He only disliked the part of Daryl that highlighted how Marley would pick Daryl instead of him. He was jealous. Glenn always hated it when Marley stuck to Daryl's side. He wanted to know why she was always so nice to the redneck, when all he did was say two words a day to her.

Whilst Glenn had been rambling in his head, Daryl had already started walking back the way they came. He quickly followed them, watching Marley's knotted and messy hair sway from side to side over Daryl's arm.

Marley closed her eyes, and laid her head on her saviours chest, wondering how many thank you's would equal this rescue.

 


	18. time bombs

**Third Person P.O.V:**

"Dad, look!" Carl exclaimed to his dad. He pointed his hand to the edge of the woods. Rick looked to where he was pointing, and saw Daryl emerging with a certain redhead in his arms, Glenn close behind.

He got up from his seat and walked over to them, Carl holding his hand.

"Is she okay?" he asked.

She had her eyes open and head against Daryl. Daryl simply nodded.

"Well, she has some pretty _nasty_ burns on her hands," Glenn intervened, walking closer to them.

Marley turned her wrists over to show Rick, and Carl made a hissing sound at the sight.

"All right, just take her to the RV," Rick ordered, moving out of their way. Daryl followed his orders and took the girl to the RV.

He laid her down on one of the beds, careful not to drop the girl. She was like a porcelain doll. Her skin was pale enough. Despite living in the sun, Marley had never caught _anything_ close to a tan.

Her eyes closed as soon as she hit the fabric of the bed. It was slightly scratchy, and there were obviously to many blankets to stay cool any night. But it had to do.

It was now just Daryl and her in the RV, whilst they waited for someone to come look at her hands. Most likely Carol.

Daryl just stood there, fiddling with the strap of his crossbow he almost forgot was there. Marley was uttering out incoherent sentences.

Daryl didn't now what she was saying, but he did recognise her saying, "Amy."

She obviously knew that Amy was dead. Being bitten was a death-sentence these days. It was the one thing you do not have a chance of getting out of. Get shot - fine. Get bit - Nope!

Marley opened up her eyes again, and looked at Daryl who was looking back at her. Just then he knew what she was going to say. What she always said - but it didn't turn out that way.

She didn't say thank you.

She said, "I don't want to be scared anymore."

Then Carol came in and Daryl walked out. Worried that he would get caught staring into her haunting eyes.

+

It was another half hour until Marley could muster up the energy to get up. Carl had been so kind to sit with her in the RV after Carol cleaned up her hands. They were luckily only second degree burns. Nothing but a few blisters needed to heal. She had gauze wrapped around her palms. Carl jokingly called her "Mummy-Hands".

Carl helped her up, carefully holding her wrist instead of her hand. He led her outwards.

Walking down the steps, Marley gasped and put a hand to her chest. She had seen Amy. Andrea hunched over her, covered in her sisters blood. No wonder Marley had run away. Who wouldn't want to just run away from all this.

Carl tugged her wrist, knowing it was bad for her to just stand there and look. But Marley wanted to. What she said to Daryl in the RV was true - she didn't want to be afraid anymore. She just didn't exactly know how to go about that.

"Carl, go back to our tent," Lori ordered her son, switching hands with him on Marley's wrist.

Marley looked up to Lori, and Lori smiled down at the much shorter girl, then led her to where everyone was sitting.

**Marley's P.O.V:**

"Y'all can't be serious. Let that girl hamstring us?" Daryl argued, "the dead girl's a time bomb."

I was sat next to Carol on some old car seats. I had to adjust myself ever so often because some of the springs would be poking at my butt. We were all arguing on what to do with Amy. Andrea still hadn't moved.

"What do you suggest?" Rick asked the pickaxe wielding man. Daryl took a step towards him and said, "Take the shot. Clean, in the brain from here," he made a gunshot gesture to his head. "Hell I can hit a turkey between the eyes from this distance"

"No for God's sake, leave her be," Lori reasoned, taking a seat next to me.

Rick and Shane exchanged looks as if to leave it. Daryl walked away, to probably put some more walkers down.

"I've never had to do it," I said to Lori, wiping away some sweat on my chin. It was scorching hot today. The fires we used to burn walkers weren't helping either. I was wearing what I wore last night - some old faded blue jeggings, and a large (kinda) white shirt that always slipped off my shoulder.

"Never?" Lori inquired, after a long pause. She knew that I was talking about putting a close one out of their misery.

"My parents are already dead. My boyfriend got killed at the start of this. Never really had any close friends." I said to her, watching Glenn, Daryl, and Morales have a dispute.

"I'm sorry," she said to me.

Just then Daryl started shouting. Being the loud-mouth he is sometimes.

"Y'all left my brother for dead!" he exclaimed, "You had this comin'!"

I had had enough of it. His being bipolar. Sure he was nice to me (if he even interacted with me), but I'm sure it was fuelled by pity.

A few more moments later and somebody else was shouting. This time it was Jacqui.

"Y'all, a walker bit Jim," she said. I let out an exasperated sigh. We didn't need any more problems on our plate.

Soon enough T-Dog had grabbed him, and Daryl lifted his shirt to reveal a wound that looked like a crazy person took a bite at him.

Jim kept muttering, "I'm okay, I'm okay".

Now we had _two_ time bombs.


	19. happy birthday

**Marley's P.O.V:**

"I say we put a pickaxe in his head and the dead girl's and be done with it," Daryl instantly said.

"Is that what you'd want if it were you?" Shane asked him.

"Yeah," Daryl replied, "and I'd thank you while you did it."

Well that question was counter productive.

"I hate to say it, I never thought I would, but maybe Daryl's right," Dale spoke.

Isn't that a little insulting?

Rick quickly jumped in. "Jim's not some monster, Dale, or some rabid dog." Dale tried to explain himself but Rick cut him off, "He's sick. A sick man. We start down that road, where do we draw that line?"

"Well-" I was cut off.

"The line's pretty clear," Daryl snarled. I felt like slapping him. "Zero tolerance for walkers, or them to be."

"None of us ever agreed to that," I argued directly at him, "he is _human_ right now. _Human's_ get _human_ rights, which includes how they want to die when given the choice."

"What if we could get him help?" Rick suggested.

' _does he even want help?_ ' I said to myself.

"I heard the C.D.C was working on a cure."

"I heard that too," Shane added. "Hear a lot of things before the world went to hell."

"What if the C.D.C is still up and running?"

"Man, that is a stretch right there," Shane said, shaking his head in disbelief.

"Why?" Rick demanded, "If there's any government left, any structure at all, they'd protect the C.D.C. at all costs, wouldn't they? I think it's our best shot. Shelter, protection..."

I did agree with him there. The C.D.C would be the best shot. I mean, they blew up Atlanta probably to protect it.

It was obvious that wherever this group went, despite there being no Merle, we would go with them.

Shane cut him off. "Okay, Rick, you want those things, all right? I do too, okay? Now if they exist, they're at the army base. Fort Benning."

"That's 100 hundred miles in the opposite direction," Lori said.

"That is right," Shane started, "but it's away from the hot zone. Now listen to me. If that place is operational, it'll be heavily armed. We'd be safe there."

Okay... I agreed to go anywhere that was safe.

"But I don't think the army survived better than any of us, to be honest," I reasoned. Everyone looked at me like I just threw away their birthday cake. "The military must have been on the front line, and they got overrun."

"That's why the C.D.C is our best chance," Rick assured, "Jim's best chance."

Again with the whole, 'maybe he doesn't want help' thing rang through my head. Some people just don't want to be saved.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Daryl shift his weight back and forth. Like he was preparing to do something. He looked over his shoulder and I followed his gaze. He was looking at the cowering Jim by the RV. I knew that Daryl wanted to do something, and I was sure no one else was going to like it.

"You go looking for aspirin," he started, "do what you need to do. Someone needs to have some balls to take care of this damn problem."

Daryl had paced to Jim quickly, throwing his pickaxe over his shoulder ready to strike Jim. But he only got a few feet away before Rick's python was pointed at the back of his head.

"We don't kill the living," Rick warned.

I had a sudden flashback. Nobody knew around here, but... Daryl has killed a living person before. It was to protect someone too. It was to protect me. Daryl was only doing what he felt needed to be done so that we (or maybe just he) could be protected in the long run.

Daryl eventually lowered his pickaxe, and turned to look Rick in the eyes. "Tha's funny coming from a man who just put a gun to my head."

"We may disagree on some things," Shane explained to Daryl, creating s barrier between him and Jim, "not on this. You put it down. Go on."

Daryl grumbled, but dropped the pickaxe in a huff. He walked away. Rick ushered Jim into the safety of the RV. Away from everyone.

I couldn't do anything to help anyone. The one time I felt mentally prepared, I had to be injured. I would have these bandages for at least a week or two. It sucked.

Everyone walked off to do some good work, whilst I took my previous seat on the old car seats. Dale was already sat there, but immediately he got up to walk over to Andrea as soon as I sat down.

From afar, I could see Andrea put what looked like a necklace around Amy's neck. Andrea told me that this day would be Amy's birthday. It made me feel sick that she missed it. Just by a day.

When Dale got up from the ground, I decided to go over to Andrea.

I sat on the twig infested ground. It hurt a little to sit on my knees. I always found it uncomfortable.

"Hey Andrea," I said softly, hoping she wouldn't blow up on me. She didn't thankfully, but glance up quickly to see it was me, only to revert her gaze back to Amy's closed eyes. "Happy birthday Amy."

Just as I said that, Andrea put her ear near Amy's face. I scrunched my eyebrows in confusion. When I concentrated more, I heard shaky breathes come from Amy's walker form. Her eyelashes twitched. Her jaw moved slightly. Along with her arms twitching. She was " _waking up_ ".

I gulped nervously, but I didn't move from my seat.

Her muscles spasm, as Andrea put a hand on her face. I watched as her eyes eerily, and slowly opened to reveal eyes that looked so human, but at the same time, looked so dead.

I didn't know what to do, I just looked at Andrea nervously. She seemed to be calmly watching as her dead sister prepared to take a bite at her.

Amy's form looked at her grieving sister. Andrea exchanged hushed words with her, something along the lines of, "I'm sorry."

The walker grabbed Andrea's hair, reaching her mouth to Andrea's face. Pawing at the air, but Andrea kept her at bay. My eyes were wide at the scene unravelling in front of me. I was hoping Andrea would come to her senses.

"I love you," Andrea said. Just before the walker could do any harm, a gunshot rang through the air.

I closed my eyes at the sharp, loud noise. I turned away, and winced. My ears were ringing. But I knew that Andrea had done it. She had done what I never wanted to do. She put her down.


	20. jim

_**Marley's P.O.V:** _

I was stood on the end nearest to the graves. Between Sophia and Carol, and Shane. We all watched as the last body was being lowered into the ground - Amy's body. Wrapped up in a white sheet. Andrea struggled, and Dale was there trying to help. Any time he would try, Andrea would say, "I can do it." In the end, she gave in and let him lower the other end.

I was battling with my own internal struggling. I didn't want to cry, therefore I didn't let myself. I was meant to be getting better at these things. Pushing myself to do the things I never would have done before. I wanted to be stronger. For many reasons. But I found it hard.

I felt a small hand to my right grab my own carefully. I looked down to see Sophia had grasped it. She was looking down at her shoes, obviously she was struggling too.

I gave her hand a reassuring squeeze, as hard as my bandaged hands would.

Then I looked to my right.

There was Shane. His hand was too his side. I wondered whether I should grab it. Would he freak out? I wasn't scared of Shane at all. Sure, he could break me like a twig, but I was on too good of terms with him.

I went with my gut, and I reached out for his much larger hand. I expected him to jerk away at the slightest touch, but he didn't. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw him look down at my pleading hand. He met me half-way and gently wrapped his around mine. My spirits were then lifted at that moment.

I looked up from our intertwined hands, and saw Andrea was now getting out of the grave. Her clothes were stained with Amy's blood. I sniffed away any tears that threatened to spill over.

No more bodies to deal with, I thought. For now.

I let go of both Sophia's and Shane's hands, and walked with the rest of the group back to camp.

You could feel the grief around everyone. The sadness. It was like a bad smell that hung over everything. A fog. We couldn't do anything about it. It was like despair was a creation of mother-nature, and only she could control it like the weather. We just had to wait for it to pass like a treacherous storm.

All of us who had nothing else to do started packing. I was quite lucky, as I never really fully unpacked. I always kept my things in my faded purple backpack. My toothbrush, my clothes, my notebook, and anything that could fit in there really. The only thing I needed to pack was my cot and tent, and I couldn't do that with my bandaged hands. Before I did anything, I made sure to change my clothes - I was now wearing a loose black tank-top, dark blue jeans, and my trusty grey converse. I asked Carol to put my hair up, and she obliged putting it in a loose bun.

Now I had to get someone to take down my tent.

Before I could ask anyone to do it, I turned around to see someone already doing it.

Daryl.

"What are you doing?" I asked suspiciously. This was very not Daryl-like.

"Wha's it look like?" He counteracted. He just automatically took down my tent, like it was something he did everyday.

He never took down my tent when it was just him, me, and Merle. I was always the one to do it (even if I didn't want to).

" _Please_ don't do that thing where you answer a question with a question," I pleaded, putting my hands in a prayer-stance. He just carried on taking down my tent.

"You ain't gonna' do it with those hands, are ya?" He said pointedly, taking down the last peg, and putting it all in the bag it came in.

"Again, with the question," I seethed, licking my lips. I crossed my arms over my chest, looking up at his much taller self. He was at least seven inches taller than me.

"Shouldn't have asked one in the firs' place," he replied quickly, picking up my backpack, taking it to his truck.

Well, I guessed I was riding with him. Just like the good old days. I could practically feel the sarcastic joy bursting out of me.

I knew I shouldn't have been annoyed with him. If it wasn't for him, I would be dead, or lost on those woods. He carried me back. I was at least grateful in my fugue state, but that didn't mean I could stop being annoyed with him all together.

I just wanted him to treat people the way that I've seen him treat me sometimes. I just wanted his better side to show. In the mean time, I was going to make it up to him by getting braver and better at things. To actually show that the life he saved was worth saving.

+

"Everybody listen up," Shane announced, "Those of you with C.B's, we're gonna be on channel forty. Let's keep the chatter down, okay. Now you got a problem, don't have a C.B, can't get a signal or anything at all, you're gonna' hit your horn just one time. That'll stop the caravan. Any questions?"

Does that include if I need to pee?

It was silent for a moment, but then Morales suddenly stepped up. "We're, uh, not going." The group, including me, looked over at him in shock.

His wife added, "We have family in Birmingham. We want to be with our people."

Everyone started saying their tearful goodbyes. I walked over to the daughter, the only one I really got closest too. We had drawn pictures together once, and it turned out she was actually quite talented for her age. So she would draw me pictures of horses, after I mentioned Peggy.

I knelt down and opened up my arms to her. She clasped her arms around my neck and clutched me tightly. I soon let go of her, and patted her head then walked over to where I previously was leaning on Daryl's truck.

Soon it was time for us all to go. I opened the truck door, and hopped onto the seat I hadn't been on in weeks, but I knew all too well.

There was an ugly pillow already laid there. _My_ pillow. After days of driving around on those lather seats, I convinced Daryl to let me put something comfy there so I wouldn't slowly break my back. It was definitely not something I would have in my apartment. After weeks of being used, it turned from a lipstick red, to a blood-in-dirt red.

Pushing away my thoughts, I rolled down the window, and poked my elbow out to rest on the window-sill. Laying my head down, this was the stance I always took when we went for long journeys.

When the truck got moving, any loose strands of hair I had started whipping at my face. I did mind. It reminded me that I was back to where I started - looking for somewhere we could be safe. On the move. I hated it.

Me and Daryl didn't talk. We never usually did. There was also no music, which was depressing. I was stuck with my own thoughts. But I had a tendency to over think things. So when I was stuck with my own thoughts, I think to much. If that makes any sense. I made small things big, and un-tangible things seem tangible.

After an hour or so of painstaking driving, we came to a stop. The RV was bellowing smoke from it's front.

I got out to stretch my legs, and to see what was going on.

"I told you we'd never get far on that hose," Dale told Rick, fisherman's hat in hand. "I said I needed the one from the cube van."

"Can you jury-rig it?" I asked.

It took everyone a second to figure out it was me who said that, and not someone who seemed like they actually knew something about cars. Soon all eyes were on me, and I instantly became embarrassed.

"Trust me," I started, putting my hands up in a ' _I surrender officer motion_ '. "That singular fact is all I know about cars. Don't come running to me for advice." I was telling the truth. 'Jury-rig' was the only car-repair lingo I knew. I swear if anyone came to me for car advice, I may just pass out from nervous sweating.

I saw Rick smirk at the corner of my eye.

"That's all it's been so far," Dale replied. "It's more duct tape than hose, and I'm out of duct tape."

"I see something up ahead. A gas station if we're lucky," Shane said, looking through his binoculars.

Jacqui jumped out of the RV. "Y'all, Jim," she started. "It's bad. I don't think he can take any more." She then disappeared back into the RV.

"Hey, Rick, you want to hold down the fort?" Shane asked. "I'll drive ahead, see what I can bring back." T-Dog then volunteered to back him up.

I had nearly forgotten about Jim. He was hauled up in the RV suffering. I could only imagine a virus that feral, the fever must have been like fire was slowly creeping into his blood.

Shane and T-Dog returned not that much later. That was when Rick informed us that Jim wanted to be left behind.

I reminded myself of what I thought earlier: 'does he even want help?'

"It's what he wants," Rick mumbled.

"And he's lucid?" Carol asked.

"He seems to be," Rick replied. "I would say yes."

"I say yes too," I added my piece.

"Back in the camp," Dale began, "when I said Daryl might be right and you shut me down, you misunderstood. I would never go along with callously killing a man. I was just gonna suggest we ask Jim what he wants, and I think we have our answer."

"We just leave him here?" Shane asked uncertainly. "We take off? Man, I'm not sure I could live with that."

"Well, we're not doing anything bad," I started, trying to put some authority into my tone, crossing

my arms in the process. "That's the one sure thing we have left now - choice, and we're giving him that." I smiled to try and lighten the mood, but all I got back we're dismal glances.

"I have to say," I started again. "I think that he stopped feeling alive as soon as his family got taken away from him. It wasn't his choice to lose his family, but this is. We have to give him that. It's not our call, any of our calls. If he doesn't want to go on, you can't force him too. It's his life... it's his right... Now I know that many can't see it that way, and many can. But you're never gonna' truly know how it feels to want to just be gone until it comes to that moment. He's lucid. He's made his choice."

I had been looking down the whole time, and I took a breath after talking for so long. I looked up and saw everyone's face was once again shocked at my sudden outburst. They all looked at me as if they knew I had thought about it before.

That seemed to get everyone's attention, and soon enough, Jim was being lowered carefully near a tree.

I wasn't planning on saying goodbye, but I thought since I vouched for his case so much, I might as well. I waited for everyone else to walk away, and soon it was just me, Jim, and Daryl.

"Hi, Jim," I said to him. He smiled in response, and coughed under his hoarse breath. I knelt down to my knees onto the grass.

"I heard you vouch for my choice," he said quietly. "Thank you."

I smiled at him now, and took his hand. "You can be with your family now." I hoped I didn't hit a nerve there, but I clearly didn't, as he looked up to the blue sky and grinned.

A small, "yes," escaped his lips. I took this as my queue to depart.

I brushed past Daryl and hopped in the truck quickly.

I took my regular stance, and I heard the other door shut behind me.

We hadn't started moving yet, and I knew it was because Daryl had a question.

I sat up and looked at him. "What?" I accused.

"I just haven't heard you talk that much in a while," he said simply.


	21. disappointment

_**Marley's P.O.V:** _

I obviously didn't realise, but I had fallen asleep on the rest of the way there. One of arms was lazily hung out the window, my cheek pressed on it in a sleepy malice. Then a very rude hand decided to wake me up by shaking my shoulder violently.

I swatted it away at first, but when the stench of decaying bodies reached my nose, I truly woke up.

I rubbed at my eyes with the balls of my wrists. I looked to my left, and saw Daryl had already left. I jumped out my skin when he banged the passenger side door. That being my side.

He was standing there, with his crossbow on one arm, paired with my purple backpack in the other hand.

"Yes, it is your colour, Daryl." I said tiredly, but he just shoved it through the window and onto my lap.

I hopped out and put it on my back, following everyone to the entrance of the C.D.C. It was getting darker, and I had to cover up my nose. It was extremely horrendous. It almost made my eyes water. It only got worse as we got closer to the building.

I currently was quite proud of myself. I didn't have my arm hooked around a certain someone. But I did feel kind of lonesome, so I grabbed the first hand I found, which was Carl's.

When we got to the door, it looked like no one was home. They were closed, and no lights were coming out anywhere at all.

"There's nobody here," T-Dog said.

"Then why are these shutters down?" Rick snapped.

All of a sudden, someone, I didn't know who, spoke up, "Walkers." The kid's started sobbing, and the hand in my grasp soon became too painful to hold, as Carl squeezed it for dear life. I let it go, and stepped further towards the shutters.

"You led us into a graveyard," Daryl yelled at Rick, aggravated.

I turned to him, wide-eyed with annoyance and fear. "Shut up!" I said to him calmly, but angrily.

"He made a call," Dale defended.

"It was the wrong damn call," Daryl yelled louder.

"Shut up! Just shut up!" I screeched equally as loud. A hand lay on my shoulders, and I knew it was Shane.

"Marley, calm down," he ordered.

"Calm?" I started, spinning around. "We. Are. Fucking. Fucked! We are getting further down the river. A river, I am _sure_ is riddled with shit!"

"Marley!" Shane now grabbed my shoulders, but I was pulled away from him when I was going to yell some more.

Carol was the next to speak. "Where are we going to go?"

Shane walked up the pacing Rick. "This is a dead end. Do you hear me? No blame."

"We can't be this close to the city after dark," Lori said.

"Fort Benning, Rick," Shane started, "it's still an option."

"On what? No food, no gas. That's one hundred miles," Andrea argued.

"One twenty-five," Glenn corrected.

We really didn't need that right now, I thought. I was still trying to calm myself down. I agreed to this! I thought this would be a good choice! Just highlights how much of a not-survivor I am.

Lori then said, "Forget Fort Benning. We need answers tonight, now."

Everyone started moving back, but I wanted to see what Rick was doing. I followed his gaze, and he was looking at the tiny security camera above the shutters. It did something unexpected - it moved.

"The camera. It moved," Rick said.

"You imagined it," Dale said firmly.

"It moved," Rick repeated.

A hand roughly grasped my upper-arm, and I turned to see Daryl, urging me to go.

"It moved," I told him sincerely.

He didn't seem to comprehend what I had just said, because he was just trying to drag me back.

I wasn't budging though. I tried to pry my arms away, repeating that the camera moved.

He gave up with my arm, hooked his crossbow over his shoulder, and put his arms around my waist. He picked me up like a child, but I kicked my legs, screaming for him to let me go.

Everyone was either shouting, crying, or arguing. I was shouting and arguing at the same time.

Suddenly, a burst of light came from the shutters of the C.D.C. It blinded my eyes, and I stopped struggling. Daryl still kept a firm grasp on me. We all stopped dead our tracks.

I kicked myself away from Daryl, dropping down to the ground. I curiously walked towards what seemed only to be heaven. But thankfully it was just the building.

"Hello?" Rick called, as we were all inside.

A mysterious gun cocked, and in the shadows, a voice shouted out. "Anybody infected?" they asked loudly.

"One of our group was," Rick said. "He didn't make it."

"Why're you here? What do you want?" The person inquired. They stepped into the light, and revealed themselves to be a tall, tired looking man, with blank blonde hair.

"A chance," Rick replied.

"That's asking an awful lot these days."

"I know."

The man looked around the group. "You all submit to a blood test. That's the price of admission."

Rick nodded. "We can do that."

The man dropped his gun, obviously not threatened, and told us to get our bags.

Once everyone did just that, the shutters closed. We all then started following the man, who had introduced himself as Dr. Edwin Jenner.

We were then all cramped up in a small elevator. I was currently pressed between Daryl's shotgun, and Glenn's backpack. Not the most comfortable situations to be honest.

I was thankful though for there being no more stench. It's the one thing I hated most about the dead. They could look bad all they wanted - maggots an all. But you can't close your nose like you can your eyes.

"Doctors always go round packing heat like tha'?" Daryl asked out of nowhere.

"There were plenty left lying around. I familiarized myself. You look harmless enough." Jenner looked down at Carl. "Except you," he teased. "I'll have to keep my eye on you."

Sooner than later, the elevator dinged as we arrived at an unknown floor.

We again followed Jenner through what seemed to be a hallway of uncertainty. At the end of the hallway, there was a large office-like room. Jenner said, "Vi, bring up the lights in the big room." Lights soon flooded the room. "Welcome to Zone Five."

"Where is everybody?" Rick asked. "The doctors? The staff?"

"I'm it," Jenner replied. "It's just me here."

"What about the person you were speaking with?" Lori then asked. "Vi?"

"Vi, say hello to our guests. Tell them... welcome."

A monotone voice echoed out, "Hello, guests. Welcome."

"Vi?" I started. "As in virtual intelligence?"

He nodded. "I'm all that's left. I'm sorry."

 _Well that's a bummer_ , I thought. _What now?_


	22. low tolerance

_**Marley's P.O.V** _

Jenner led us into a separate room. Much smaller, and it had many chairs piled up on one side.

He was taking our blood, and after everyone including me, Andrea was the last to go.

When she went to get up, however, she stumbled a little. Jacqui grasped her shoulders a little. "She hasn't eaten in days. None of us have," she explained. That reminded me of my empty stomach. I hadn't eaten since that night Amy died, with the fish fry. I didn't even get to finish my fish fry. My stomach rumbled quietly, as if it were pleading me to do something about it.

+

Jenner led us into a kitchen of some sort. It was more of a small cafe, like the ones you find in airports. He seemed to sit by his lonesome self, whilst everyone else started drinking wine and ate some long awaited food.

I was sat to the left of Shane. I hadn't had any wine... _yet_. I never liked wine. I tasted it once and I spat it back out. I never really was an alcohol drinking person. I was one year off being legal, but I suppose those rules don't really apply now. I had a glass beside me, it just didn't have anything in it.

Everyone was laughing at something.

"You know," Dale started, "in Italy and France, children have a little bit of wine with dinner."

"Well, when Carl is in Italy or France, he can have some then," Lori replied sternly, covering the top of Carl's glass with her hand.

"What's it gonna hurt? Come on," Rick said, trying to convince his wife. She eventually gave in smiling, and lifted her hand off of Carl's glass. Dale poured some wine in, and silence fell as Carl took a drink. He crinkled his nose in disgust when it touched his lips, and he quickly put the drink down, "Eww. That's nasty."

A smiled spread across my face. I couldn't help it. Everything seemed to be getting better. But I still had a sinking feeling that bad things were still to come.

"Well, just stick to soda pop there, bud," Shane said beside me.

Suddenly, Daryl appeared behind me. "Not you Glenn," he ordered.

Glenn looked up at Daryl. "What?"

"Keep drinking, little man. I want to see how red your face can get." Daryl elaborated. He reached over my shoulder and started pouring a lot of wine into my empty glass. I didn't ask him to, he just did it for some reason.

Rick stood up as Daryl walked away from me. "It seems to me we haven't thanked our host properly."

"He is more than just our host." T-Dog added, raising his glass.

I picked up my glass and raised it too. I looked over my shoulder awkwardly to see Dr. Jenner.

Everyone was saying, "Here here!"

"Booyah!" Daryl suddenly yelled, almost scaring to life out of me. Everyone echoed his 'booyah' including me.

Shane all of a sudden somberly asked, "So when are you gonna tell us what the hell happened here, doc?" The mood was crushed. So, I decided to take a drink of wine. It tasted soapy, and horrible. I could only taste a slight grape taste, but it was overthrown by the taste of alcohol. But I just drank some more. "All the other doctors that were supposed to be figuring out what happened, where are they?"

"We're celebrating Shane." Rick said annoyed. "We don't need this right now."

"Whoa, wait a second. This is why we're here, right? This was your move. To supposedly find all the answers. Instead we-" he laughed a little, jerking his thumb in the direction of the doctor. "-we found him. Found one man. Why?"

I was curious myself, so I turned in my seat to fully face Jenner, wine glass still in hand.

He took a deep breath. "Well, when things got bad, a lot of people just left, went off to be with their families. When things got worse, when the military cordon got overrun, the rest bolted."

"Every last one?" I pressed.

"No, many couldn't face walking out the door. They... opted out. There was a rash of suicides. That was a bad time."

I took an even longer drink of my wine. I could feel the buzz behind my eyes now.

"You didn't leave. Why?" Andrea asked.

"I just kept working, hoping to do some good."

Glenn then spoke. "Dude, you are such a buzz-kill, man."

I took yet another drink from my glass. I was _definitely_ getting drunk tonight.

+

Jenner led us down some more halls, supposedly to where we would be staying. "Most of the facility is powered down, including housing, so you'll have to make do here. There's a rec room down the hall that you kids might enjoy. Just don't plug in any video games, or anything that draws power, okay?" After a moment he added, "Oh, and if you shower, go easy on the hot water."

That was like music to my ears. Hot water. We could actually shower, and not just use that flimsy cold shower system we had back at the camp.

I immediately took the room to my left. There was a couch on one wall, and a desk on the other. I put down my backpack, and dropped my glass that I forgot was in my hand. A small bit of wine splashed on the carpet.

I saw the door leading to the bathroom, and my stomach jolted in anticipation.

Making my way in there, I unravelled the bandages on my hands. They were getting better, and the blisters had scabbed over. They still looked a slight mess, but I suppose I could go without bandages now.

I undressed myself, and took my hair down. I turned on the shower, and when my hand hit the water to test it - it was hot. We had hot water!

I stepped in without hesitation, and I let the water pour all over my face and hair. I used soap and shampoo provided the wash any dirt away. It was heavenly. Then Jenner's words echoed through my head, to not use all the hot water.

I turned the shower off and stepped out. I then caught sight of my reflection.

I was bony and gaunt. I was paler than before, and that was an achievement in itself. Darkness underlined my eyes unlike before, and I just looked constantly tired. The only thing great that came out of this was that my hair was longer.

I stepped into a towel, and walked back into the room. I put on some chequered pyjamas. I put my hair back up, and looked glumly at the empty glass on my floor.

I walked out, and into the halls to get back to the kitchen. There was no one there. I ventured through all the cabinets. When I came to the last one, I found what I was looking for - Alcohol. It was some sort of whisky. I didn't care, as I unscrewed the lid and took a large gulp of the amber liquid. It burned my throat like hot lava, but I kept drinking.

I started stumbling through the hallways, trying to find someone to share this with.

I pressed myself up to one of the doors, and I heard two people talking. When things got quicker, I opened the door, and saw Shane holding Lori in his arms. She tried to pry herself away. As she did, she saw me. Her eyes pleaded for me to help. But I did what I do best.

I ran away.

+

_**Third Person P.O.V:** _

Marley stumbled even more throughout the hallways, in her drunken stupor. She was at the point where she could end up sleeping on the floor.

She opened a random door. Unknowingly to her, it was Daryl's. He was sat on on his couch, but he quickly got up from his seat when she stumbled in. "What's wrong he asked?"

She quickly turned around. "You!" she whisper-yelled. "I ran away. I didn't know what else to do." she sobbed.

"What happened?" he pressed.

"I wanted to be brave, but I can't. I just can't!" She threw the whisky bottle at him, and he swiftly caught it. She scrunched her eyebrows in disappointment - she obviously wanted it to hit him. "It's over!" she yelled, as she ducked out of the room.

Daryl just stood there, not sure of what to do next.

 


	23. mindless instinct

_**Third Person P.O.V:** _

She stumbled out of Daryl's room. Leaving him to ponder on what he had just witnessed.

Whisky bottle still in hand, she took another swig. Her eyes scrunched up in pain at the sharp taste.

Her drunken haze led her back to her room, they way she had left it. Empty wine glass still on the floor. She tried to reach down for it, but ended up losing her balance and falling on the couch.

She huffed into the cushion. This isn't my cushion, she thought. She tried her arms to see if they could help her. They ended up not doing that.

She gave up flailing, and turned so she was on her back. She was giving in to the heavy feeling on her eyelids. As she was slowly descending into sleepiness, something decided to wake her for the second time that day.

"Marley!" the voice ordered. She put her hands to her ears. The voice was being way too loud.

The owner of said voice started moving her shoulders. They turned her so she was on her side. Unable to drown in vomit that night.

"Get way me!" she ushered, flailing again at the mystery person.

"It ain' safe to sleep on your back," they said. Marley now knew who that voice belonged to. She recognized it at the "ain'" despite her being slightly helpless.

"Bed, tuck me" she asked innocently, now opening her eyes to look at his face. "Story... now. About one cat." He was incredibly close to her. He didn't have the best of balances either, since he had drunk some too. He had a higher tolerance to boot though.

"What?" he asked confusedly.

"Where did you get that idea... we've never met a cat," she scrunched her eyebrows together. "Your drunk Daryl go to sleep. I'll tuck you in if you want. Story - about cats, with your purchase." She paused for a moment, looking at him expectantly. "Would you like a bag?"

He still struggled to get her to be on her side. "No," he said sternly.

She got out of his grasp, somehow able to now stand up.

"Aww," she cooed. "O'l Daryl always looking after me."

"Stop it."

"What?"

He grabbed her shoulders once more, pushing her down to the seat. She instantly shot back up, nearly toppling over. "You mum?" she cocked an eyebrow at him. "Hah, got you... take you to the burn ward."

Daryl spotted the half-empty whisky bottle on the floor. He swiftly picked it up, and was going to take it away from her.

She reached to grab it. "That's mine!" Jumping up and hitting his shoulders. "Keith David would never do that."

"Who's that?"

"Your mum. Hah got you, double burn!"

He held it above his head. She crossed her arms and huffed in annoyance. She looked like a child.

When she tried to reach for it again, he put it behind her head. She giggled at this little game they were playing.

Two drunk people (one with high tolerance, one with low tolerance) stood in a makeshift bedroom fighting over a whisky bottle.

Daryl then noticed how incredibly close they were. Her chest nearly hitting his. His arm over her shoulder, holding the whisky bottle.

She looked straight into his eyes, unknowingly using the weakness he had for her. Even if he hated her, he would always admit to himself that she had eyes that could draw him from anywhere. They seemed to drag you in.

She was also getting closer to him, her facing drawing closer.

Soon, his breaths hit her face and caused wisps of her hair to sail though the air.

Neither of them knew who closed the gap - but they did. Daryl's eyes grew wide, and his normal self screamed inside of him. Run away! But the other half of him. The part that was intrigued by her, but also seemed to be in partnership with his drunken side - it urged him to keep going, and not let her go.

Marley barely comprehended what was happening. She simply kept up with the pace.

Both of their eyes fluttered closed, as their lips started moving in sync with each other's. Daryl threw the whisky bottle lightly onto the sofa. He then wrapped his now free arm around her shoulders, and grabbed her jaw gently with the other.

She moved her hands to his chest, grasping his shirt tightly in her little hands.

It was like the world was screaming for them to keep going.

But the world had other plans.

Glenn knocked the door and opened it. He just caught a glimpse of what was happening, and hurt spread across his face. He quickly closed the door loudly behind him, and ran down the hallway.

Marley and Daryl jumped apart from each other at the appearance of Glenn. Daryl stayed standing and sucked in a breathe of embarrassment. Marley landed, for the second time that night, on the sofa.

Daryl looked at the door, and wondered where Glenn had gone. But he reverted his gaze to the girl on the sofa.

She was thankfully laid on her side. Clutching the whisky bottle in her arms, cradling it like a baby, giggling. "Whisky the baby," she sniggered. After that comment, she was suckered out and finally gave into sleep.

Daryl couldn't help but smirk, but then scrunch his face up in confusion. He kissed her, he thought. And she kissed me.

He left the room, switching off the lights as he did.

+

_**Marley's P.O.V:** _

Opening my eyes was the worst part. It burnt. And I had experience being burnt before. My throat felt like it wanted throw out whatever I had to eat last night. Last night. Last night?

Last night was just a blur to me. A bunch of ripped out pages. The only thing I could remember was grabbing the whisky bottle that I could feel cradles in my arms.

My face was squished into the pillow of the sofa. I sighed a breathe of disappointment. My first hangover in my life, and I'm spending it in the basement of the centre of disease control, which is the last hope of finding a cure to a virus that has taken over our world. And I'm hungry.

Wincing at the slit of light that came from the hallway, I opened my eyes and blinked. I rubbed the sleep from my eyes with the base of my palm. I yawned, still hungry.

As I stood up, my stomach protested at the sudden movement. I wrapped my hand around my mouth and ran to the toilet. I spewed up the contents from my stomach.

Could today get any worse?

+

At breakfast, I was surprised to be one of the first people up. I'm normally one of the last. Glenn was there, also with a hangover, worse than mine. There was also Lori, Carl, Dale, T-Dog, and Andrea.

I sat next to Lori, who put an arm around my shoulders and rubbed her hand up my arm comfortingly. She could obviously see the obvious pain I was in. Dale passed me a plate of what looked like some form of bacon and powdered eggs.

I ate quietly, getting better by the minute.

As Lori sat next to me, despite her just comforting me, I couldn't help but feel like she didn't want me to sit next to her. I didn't know why.

Rick walked in after a while, whilst I was drinking tea. The second he got near the table, Carl asked, "Are you hungover? Mom said you'd be."

A smile crossed Rick's features as he sat next to me, unable to sit next to his wife because I was occupying the seat. "Mom is right."

"Mom has that annoying habit," Lori then said.

Glenn groaned in pain as Jacqui came and rubbed his shoulders. "Don't ever, let me drink... again," he whined.

"Let's try and keep each other from drinking," I said sincerely. He looked at me, head in his hands, and it was like he didn't want me to say that. The playful smirk I had on my face dropped. What was it

with people this morning?

Shane walked in with scratches up his neck, and I decided to give up on this morning being full of people that were acting normal.

Then Daryl walked in, and he was looking at me like he probably did when faced with a mountain lion, or a bear. Watching me out of the corner of his eye. He obviously wasn't as observant as he thought, because I could see everything he was doing. It was like he was seeing what I was going to do next.

Lastly, Jenner walked in.

"Hey doc," Shane called.

"Doctor, I don't mean to slam you with questions first thing-" Dale started.

"But you will anyway," Jenner finished.

Andrea walked over at him. "We didn't come here for the eggs."

Well apparently I came here for the booze as per last night.

+

Jenner led us all back to the big office room, with all the computers that displayed blank screens. He walked to the big screen on the wall. "Give me playback of TS-19."

"Playback of TS-19," Vi repeated in her usual robotic voice.

Pleased, Jenner turned back to us. "Few people ever got a chance to see this," he took an ominous pause, "Very few."

A large blue tinted imagine appeared on the screen. What looked to be a silhouette of a human, and showing it's inner workings. An MRI of a human brain.

Carl asked, "Is that a brain?"

"An extrordinary one. Not that it matters in the end," he further explained. He made another command, "Take us in for EIV."

"Enhanced internal view," Vi droned. The screen panned inwards to the brain, now showing dancing lights. Like the cars on a highway, speeding sparatically.

"What are those lights?" Shan asked.

"It's a person's life: experiences, memories. It's everything. Somewhere in all that organic wiring, all those ripples of light, is you. It's the thing that makes you unique and human," Jenner said.

Despite dropping out of school at fifteen, I did know what he was talking about. I could read anything ever, and it pleased me entirely. I ended up reading about one hundred pages on biology one day... the next day I was reading Harry Potter.

"You don't make sense ever?" Daryl interrupted my thoughts. He walked closer to the screen, and therefore farther away from me.

"Those are synapses," he explained further, "electric impulses in the brain that carry all the messages. They determine everything a person says, does or thinks from the moment of birth... to the moment of death."

Rick took a few steps towards the screen. Everyone seemed to be walking closer to it, whilst I stayed put behind a desk. "Death? That's what this is, a vigil?"

"Yes," Jenner responded, "Or rather the playback of the vigil."

"This person died?" Andrea said in awe. It was actually quite obvious to me that this person was probably dead. A lot of people have died. "Who?"

"Test Subject Nineteen. Someone who was bitten and infected... and volunteered to have us record the process."

The playback fast forwarded probably to when the virus started festering.

"What is that?" Glenn asked.

"It invades the brain like meningitis. The adrenal glands hemorrhage, the brain goes into shutdown, then the major organs." What he had said coincided with the brain turning dead on the screen. It scared me slightly that your mind gives in before your body does. "Then death. Everything you ever were or ever will be... gone."

It was strange to see death so close up. Not to see the life leave their eyes, them simply passing. It was an inward look on all the christmas lights that make us, us. We go out, literally like a light.

"Is that what happened to Jim?" Sophia asked, looking up to her mother.

"Yes," Carol answered strongly.

Andrea looked to be losing her footing, grasping the desk beside her. Jenner gave her questioning look. "She lost someone two days ago," Lori confided. "Her sister."

Jenner carefully approached her. "I lost somebody too. I know how devastating it is." He then instantly switched back to his authoritive voice, "Scan to the second event." The playback once again forwarded. "The resurrection times vary wildly. We have reports of it happening in as little as three minutes. The longest we had was eight hours. In the case of this patient, it was two hours, one minute... seven seconds."

Suddenly a red bee-like swarm started appearing on the image of a brain.

"It restarts the brain?" Lori asked.

"No," Jenner corrected, "just the brainstem. Basically, it gets them up and moving. The frontal lobe, the neocortex, the human part... that doesn't come back. The you part. It's just a shell driven by mindless instinct."

For the first time in a long time. I felt like I had found something in common with the dead roaming this earth.

I was driven by mindless instinct. Vulnerable. Not worth it. Ever.


	24. get out

_**Marley's P.O.V:** _

My eyes widened slightly as a burst of light darted across the screen. I figured that must have been a bullet.

"God," Carol gasped, "What was that?"

"They were shot," I confirmed. I turned on my heels to look at Jenner.

He turned away from my gaze. "Vi, power down the main screen and work stations." He ordered. Vi repeated his orders and followed them. The room got eerily darker. The group stood in their places, looking to Jenner for any more answers.

"You have no idea what it is, do you?" Andrea spoke, sounding annoyed. Jenner looked to his shoes, thinking slowly of his answer.

"It could be microbial, viral, parasitic, fungal." He listed.

Jacqui then interupted with a shaky voice, "Or the wrath of God."

"There is that."

We all looked at him in disbelief. This was the guy who was supposed to give us hope, and yet, he had the least. This is who we've had the answers in the hands of. Some dismal, tall, monotone-like-his-computer-wife-dude.

"Somebody must know something. Somebody somewhere." Andrea questioned, desperate for answers.

"I've been in the dark for almost a month," Jenner said, turning to Rick.

"So it's not just here," Andrea said. "There's nothing left anywhere? Nothing? That's what you're really saying."

Jenner didn't say a thing, and yet his silence answered that question.

"Man, I'm gonna get shit-faced drunk again," Daryl muttered, bringing his hands up to his hair.

I was then considering getting drunk again. There's obviously not anything left. There's no tommorow, so why remember today?

"Dr Jenner, I know this has been taxing for you, and I hate to ask one more question," Dale began, "but... that clock. It's counting down. What happens at zero?"

Worry washed over me. Nothing good was going to come out of that clock hitting zero, for sure. Even more reason to get drunk.

"The basement generators... they run out of fuel," he quickly explained.

What did that mean? They run out, and then there will be no more power. I suppose this place was getting more useless as the seconds went by.

"Then what?" Rick asked. Jenner continued to walk away. "Hey!" he ordered. Rick glanced up at the ceiling. "Vi?" he asked. "What happens when the power runs out?"

"When the power runs out, facility-wide decontamination will occur," Vi replied.

So what? They spit soaps on us?

Rick retreated off somewhere with Shane. Glenn, and T-Dog. The rest of us started going back to our rooms.

I didn't know what everyone else was doing but I immediatly started packing my bag. The power was running out, which meant we can't stay here. Obviously. We would be living in a dark dismal shell.

After packing my things, I walked down the hallway, and stopped at a door. It was Daryl's.

"Why aren't you packing?" I asked him. He was sitting there with a whisky bottle in his hands. The whisky bottle that I was cuddling up to this morning.

He turned to look at me. He didn't say anything, he just looked at me like he was judging me. Like he was assessing what my next move would be.

"Why are you looking at me like that?" I asked confusedly. He didn't answer me, he just turned his back to me.

Then the lights above his head started to flicker, then they went black.

"Whoa," I gasped. I heard Jenner coming down the hall. I looked to my right and found him in his lab coat. He looked so formal.

A hand came to my shoulder, moving me away from the door. "What's going on? Why is everything turned off?" Daryl asked.

Jenner simply snatched the whisky bottle from his hand and brought it to his lips.

This time the hand on my shoulder was dragging me along the corridor after Jenner. I had my hands grasping the ends of my shirt.

Questions were being asked back and forth, with Jenner giving no straight answers. We swiveled through long corridors and stairs until we came to one that led staright to the big office room.

Jenner took a large gulp of the whisky, then grasped the railing to the stairs that lead to the desks.

He passed the bottle back to Daryl, who yanked it back so hard, whisky splashed on the floor.

We all stood there waitng for answers.

"It was the French." He said suddenly

"What?" I asked.

"They were the last ones to hold out as far as I know. While our people were bolting out the doors and committing suicide in the hallways, they stayed in the labs till the end. They thought they were close to a solution." He explained.

"What happened?" Rick asked.

"The same thing that's happening here," he started. "No power grid. Ran out of juice. The world runs of fossil fuel. I mean, how stupid is that?"

Rick then ordered us to get our things. I didn't know why everyone else didn't start packing after he told us the power would go out.

An alarm started blaring, signalling that is what the half-hour mark. Whatever that meant. I already had my backpack on me, so I stood by the door waiting for everyone.

Whirs and clang echoed from my right, and as I looked, the door snapped shut.

My eyes went wide. He locked us in.

"Did you just lock us in?" Glenn gasped, coming up beside me. "He just locked us in," he screeched, obviously scared for his life.

I turned to my left and saw everyone coming back, scared looks on their faces.

"You son of a bitch!" Daryl yelled, starting to run up to Jenner, who sat at his desk. Whisky bottle in hand, he lifted it above his head, ready to strike him. He only hust got a little grasp at Jenner's coat but then T-Dog and Shane dragged him away. He still tried to get at him though.

"Jenner open the door," I pleaded, walking up to him.

"There's no point. Everything topside is locked down." He said, looking up at me from his seat.

"Well open them," I screeched, getting angry.

"That's not something I control. The computers do." he reasoned. He pointed a finger at me. "I told you once that front door closed, it wouldn't open again. You heard me say that. It's better this way."

"What is?" Rick started, glancing at the large red clock. "What happens in 28 minutes?" Jenner tore his gaze from us, and looked at his computer screen again. He was avoiding any more questions.

Shane kicked his chair, wanting an answer. "Come on!" he yelled.

"What happens in 28 minutes?" I yelled.

"Do you know what this place is?!" Jenner roared, stepping up from his chair. I stepped back into Rick. "We protected the public from very nasty stuff! Weaponized smallpox! Ebola strains that could wipe out half the country! Stuff you don't want getting out! Ever!"

I released a breath I didn't realise I was holding.

Jenner huffed, and straightened out his lab coat. He spoke again, but calmer this time. "In the event of a catastrophic power failure, H.I.T's are deployed to prevent any organisms from getting out."

"H.I.T's?" Rick asked.

"Vi, define."

"High-impulse thermobaric fuel-air explosives consists of a two-stage aerosol ignition that produces a blast wave of significantly greater power and duration than any other explosive except nuclear.The vacuum-pressure effect ignites the oxygen between 5,000° and 6,000° and is used when the greatest loss of life and damage to structures is desired."

My breathing became heavy. I didn't exactly have a good relationship with fire. At least not lately.

"It sets the air on fire," Jenner muttered. "No pain. An end to sorrow, grief, regret. Everything."

I could hear Carl and Sophia crying. I blinked away any tears that threatened to spill over my eyes. I couldn't do it now. If I was going to die, I wasn't going to die crying. But I didn't want to die. I'm too determined to get better to die now.

I felt an anger that boiled like water. I had never experience this strong an emotion before. Nearly six years of my life without making my own choices, and someone was making my choice for me again. I didn't want this. Not today.

I turned on my heels, fists balled up. Pain coursed through my wrists as I squeezed them.

I scurried past Shane, Dale, Jacqui, and some others who were huddled together on the floor. I looked to my side, and saw a large red axe behind a protective glass door. I walked quickly towards it, throwing open the door and grabbing it. It weighed a lot, almost popping my shoulder out of joint from not anticipating it.

I turned and stomped towards the large metal door. I could feel people's eyes burning into the back of my head. They must be thinking: "Marley wouldn't do that, she's just a small little girl who always runs away." I must admit, I didn't really know what I was doing. Surviving could be a word for it. That's what I wanted to do.

I angrily lifted the axe and struck the door. A spark came off of it, but there wasn't a dent made. With more force, I struck again. Nothing. I then just threw the axe at the door, making it clatter loudly on the floor.

I banged on the door with my fists. I screamed and screeched. "Open the door!" I roared. I put all my pent up emotions into trying to beat the door to death.

I turned around and snatched the whisky bottle from Daryl's hand, throwing it at the door. The bottle shattered, and the whisky splashed everywhere.

"Outta my way!" Shane yelled, coming at the door with his own axe. I moved to grasp the railing, shoulders moving quickly from my heavy breathing.

Daryl came up and picked up the axe which I threw on the floor, and joined in on hitting the door like I previously did.

"Can't make a dent," T-Dog exclaimed.

"Those doors are designed to withstand a rocket launcher." Jenner said, surprisingly calm. Daryl grasped the axe harder, and I knew what he was going to do. He took a run up to Jenner, raising it above his head. "But your head ain't!" He shouted, ready to strike him.

I ran up behind Daryl, wrapping my arms around his torso. We couldn't get Jenner killed, he held the key to getting out. Dale and Rick joined in in grasping Daryl away, trying to calm him down.

"Daryl, don't do it!" I ordered. Dale pushed him back, and I pulled him back. The axe was taken from his hands. I let go of him, and he turned to look at me. I gave him a warning look, and he did what my eyes told him to do. He walked away.

Rick started arguing about trying to keep hope alive. I continued to try and control my anger.

"What part of 'everything is gone' do you not understand?" Andrea said from her seat on the floor.

"Listen to your friend. She gets it," Jenner said. "This is what take us down. This is our extinction event."

"This isn't right," Carol sobbed, clutching Sophia. "You can't just keep us here."

"One tiny millisecond. No pain."

"I don't think being burnt to death includes 'no pain'." I added.

"My daughter doesn't deserve to die like this."

"Wouldn't it be kinder, more compassionate to just hold your loved ones and wait for the clock to run down?" Jenner asked, leaning forward.

I heard a gun cock, and looked to see Shane approaching with a shotgun aimed at Jenner. He placed the nozzle on Jenner's face, who remained calm. Rick tried to reason with Shane.

He screamed like I had earlier, but lifted the gun to aim at the computers on the other side of Jenner. I shot at them sending sparks spiralling around them. Then he shot the ceiling above them.

We all ducked at the loud noises. Rick knocked Shane with his own gun, and warned him.

Then silence filled the air, as Rick looked at us all. Probably trying to access our emotions. I looked around myself, and they were all looking back at Rick. Except Daryl, who was looking at me.

"You're lying," Rick accused, turning back to Jenner. "About no hope. If that were true, you'd have bolted with the rest or taken the easy way out. You didn't. You chose the hard path. Why?"

"It doesn't matter."

"It does matter. It always matters." Rick started, wiping the nervous sweat from his chin. "You stayed when others ran. Why?"

"Not because I wanted to," Jenner started, looking Rick in the eyes. "I made a promise," he said proudly, standing up, and now towering over Rick. "To her... my wife"

"Test subject 19 was your wife?" Lori asked.

"She begged me to keep going as long as I could. How could I say no."

I heard pounding on the door behind me, and knew Daryl was still trying to open the door.

"She was dying. It should've been me on that table. I wouldn't have mattered to anybody. She was a loss to the world. Hell, she ran this place. I just worked here. In our field, she was an Einstein. Me? I'm just... Edwin Jenner. She could've done something about this."

"Your wife didn't have a choice," Lori reasoned. "You do. That's... that's all we want... a choice, a chance. Let us keep trying as long as we can."

There was a pause, I hoped it was that Jenner was thinking of letting us go.

"I told you topside's locked down. I can't open those," he said. He walked over to his computer desk, and scanned a card on something a pressed a few buttons.

My heart leaped. He was letting us go. I looked at the door, and sure enough it opened.

"Come on, let's go!" Daryl yelled.

We could live. Let's hope I don't regret this.

 


	25. highway to hell

**_Marley's P.O.V:_ **

I placed my elbow on the table, holding up my head. I looked out the window.

I was sat in the RV. After the CDC blew up, we made a pit stop so that we could siphon more gas. Daryl volunteered to go on Merle's/his bike so that we could the gas from that car. This meant that I couldn't sit in my seat any more. I didn't even pick up my pillow before we left. That sucked.

So here I was. Next to Shane at the RV table, looking out the window as Daryl passed on his bike, wind blowing through his vest and hair.

We coming out of the RV, I noticed that three particular people would avoid talking to me. Lori, Glenn, and Daryl. I didn't ask them why, but I would have to at some point.

I was quite squashed next to the window, as Shane had some pretty muscular arms that took up a lot of room.

All I had to do was think about my actions. What happened to me back in the CDC. How angry I got. Me hitting that door with the axe, and screaming my lungs raw. That wasn't me. I only realised that now.

"Oh jeez!" Dale exclaimed. I turned in my seat, and looked through the tiny gap between the chair and the RV wall.

Piles of cars were holed up on the highway. Some were flipped, and most were just the wrong way round. All abandoned. Blocking our way through.

"There's an interstate bypass-" Glenn suggested, but was cut off by Dale. "No we can't spare the fuel."

We slowed down some more, carefully manoeuvring through the cars. It was haunting to say the least.

A few spluttering sounds cam from the front of the RV. I put a hand to my heart as a burst of gas spat upwards.

Dale stopped the RV abruptly. We all clambered to get out. The hot sun was torture. I much preferred the cold to the warm.

I stretched my arms above my head, then tightened the bun on top of my head. Looking around, this place looked like a goldmine.

"I said it. Didn't I say it?" Dale started, opening up the front of the RV. "A thousand times. Dead in the water."

"Problem Dale?" Shane asked. I rolled my eyes. He was there when the RV obviously blew something.

"Just a small matter of being stuck in the middle of nowhere with no hope of-" he trailed off as he watched Daryl start looting through the back of a car. "Okay, that was dumb."

"If you can't find a radiator hose here..." Shane said.

"There's a whole bunch of stuff we can find," Daryl finished for him. He opened up a backpack which looked to belong to a six year old girl.

"I can siphon more fuel from these cars for a start," T-Dog stepped up.

"Maybe some water," Carol added.

"Food," Glenn also added.

"This is a graveyard," Lori said. I looked to her. She really didn't need to add that. If you consider it, everywhere is a graveyard. Just more-so now that the world has ended. "I don't know how I feel about this."

"Bit morbid," I mumbled. "Didn't need that."

Despite his wife's comment, Rick told us all to go and scavenge what we can.

Whereas everyone went the way in front of the RV, I thought it might be clever to go the other way.

I passed Rick, both of us sending each other curtly nods. I walked a bit until I came to a car that looked like ones you saw on family commercials.

Inside there was a baby seat. It got me thinking about children. When I was younger, I'd always wanted children. As I got older, that thought got less. I didn't particularly want them as I got older. Not that I despise them.

Looking through the bags, I didn't find anything useful. I did find a little grey beanie though. I plopped it on my head, opting to look through the glove box. I found some baby wipes, some brochures and men's sunglasses.

I heard someone whispering my name. So I looked to my right where everyone was. Rick had a panicked look in his eyes. He kept glancing to behind me.

I turned my head, and I saw walkers. Lots of walkers.

My heart thumped in my chest. Like when your'e about to fall off a bed. That little jolt, telling you you're about to get hurt.

I crouched down slightly, scurrying back to where the others were. I just hoped the walkers hadn't seen me. Everyone else had ducked under the cars; safe.

I looked over my shoulder, and saw a female walker. Eyes on me, and clearly in pursuit. I couldn't just duck under a car like everyone else. I couldn't just disappear.   
I gulped, running a little faster. I kept looking over my shoulder, seeing that walker. Luckily it was just the one. The other's hadn't noticed me, and now she was way ahead of all of them.

Do we still call them 'she'. Do we call them 'it' now.

I swerved around the front of car to be on the other side. I started backing up as it followed my tracks.

She looked around like a dog, sniffing the air for my scent. She started following me correctly, going slowly round the front of my car.

I crawled under the car, just as she would have spotted me. I held my breath, watching their shoes scuff against the concrete.

I placed my hands on the ground below me, ready to make a run for it.

Just then, their body slumped to the floor, showing me that she had been shot in the head. With an arrow.

I knew who shot that arrow: Daryl.

+

Once the community of walkers had passed, I manoeuvred my way from under the car.

I started walking back, adjusting the hat on my head.

When I got back, I knew something was wrong. Everyone was near the railing, looking out into the forest. Carol especially looked distressed.

"What happened?" I asked. Nobody answered me. Nobody even looked at me.

I looked around, counting heads. The only people that weren't here was Sophia, Daryl, Rick, and T-Dog. But soon enough, Daryl and T-Dog joined us. T-Dog was clutching a bloody handkerchief to his arm. He had a long deep cut running up his lower arm.

Well... Shit!


	26. guns

_**Marley's P.O.V:** _

Turns out that Sophia had been chased into the woods by some walkers. Rick had gone after her. Apparently he had told her to stay in a certain place or come back to the highway. When he came back without her, it was obvious that she was lost in the woods. Just like what had happened to me. And I hoped she ended up like me; being found.

Daryl, Shane, and Glenn had joined Rick in the search for her. But Glenn and Shane had come back after a while, saying that Daryl and Rick were still out there looking for her.

I wasn't surprised that Daryl was still out there, being the great tracker that he is. I had seen him shoot a rabbit so fast before, then walking over to it and throwing it at me, I didn't know what was happening and nearly screamed.

Whereas I could hardly track down my keys before shit hit the fan. I don't think I could track something that wasn't moving in a square room.

I knew I could never get on Daryl's level. Whatever "level" that was.

I was rummaging through more cars, coughing left and right at the constant stench of what was only like rotten fruit and meat. I had found mostly clothes which was convenient, since now I had changed into some fresh clothes. I also found loads of packets of nuts. And I don't mean just a few, I mean like it looked like this person wanted to kill a lot of allergic people.

I brushed one of my strawberry blonde locks of hair that fell from my hat. It was getting incredibly long, and becoming an inconvenience. I didn't have the heart to cut it though.

I scrunched my eyebrows in frustration. The car only had those few things in it. I piled them on the little place we made beside the RV for all our supplies. I turned and walked back, going to my next car.

I was hoping to find a weapon of some sort.

Just as I thought of that, I opened another car. Inside was a corpse, much like the other ones. I then noticed the corpse had a badge around his neck on a chain. Like the ones you see detectives wear. I then spotted something under the flap of his jacket.

I lifted his jacket, and found a thick black gun. It was strapped to one of those chest/rib holsters. The ones that you put on like a little jacket.

It took some shifting, and some control to not throw up at the smell, but eventually I got it off. I could hear its bones crackle and his skin squelch as I moved him around. But compared to any other walker, he was actually quite "clean". It was revealed to have two guns, not just one. One, shiny and black. The other looking like it had been white before, but seemed to have faded to a chipped-paint like look. But both clean like they were just bought.

Looking down at my chest, I had a button up on. The kind of ones you saw a Winchester wear.

 _'I can get away with it'_ , I thought.

Looking around, I unbuttoned my shirt, to swiftly strap the holster around myself. I hoped Carl or Glenn weren't around. I'd have hated it if they popped out of nowhere and saw me in just a bra. Poor Carl's soul would jump out of his skin. I wasn't sure how Glenn would react.

The guns were heavy, and the leather dug into my skin. I put my shirt back on, and it looked like I had no gun at all.

 _'This could either be a great idea, or an extremely terrible idea',_ I thought.

But I decided to stick to it. Adamant to be tough. But I was still no Lara Croft.

I looked up to the sky, seeing it had turned a dusty orange colour. It was getting dark, and I had yet to see Sophia run back into her mother's arms.

Poor Carol was stuck in a nightmare, surely already being in a nightmare as well.

I walked over to the pile of supplies, carrying a bunch of maybe useful things in my arms. It seemed that my attempts to be somewhat of a hero came in the form of finding some trendy pink water, and hiding some guns under my shirt. Being good at things was hard.

Like I had said many times before, I wanted not to be scared, or wimpy. I didn't know why, but I felt the need to show Daryl my life was worth saving. That he didn't have to baby me all the time.

I was pulled out of my thoughts and mindlessly staring at the growing pile of cans, by Andrea's voice.

"Where's my gun?" she asked directly to Dale.

"You don't need that just now, do you?" he said innocently. He was obviously concerned that she would do something drastic with it. Ever since the CDC went down, and she had that incident in the RV with a walker, I noticed Dale was keeping a watchful eye on Andrea constantly.

"My father gave it to me," she defended. "It's mine."

They argued some more until Shane interrupted. He turned into police officer mode. "Everything cool?"

"No, I want my gun back." Andrea was obviously displaying that things were not so cool.

I was going to walk over to Carol and comfort her, so I could tune out of their bickering. It was sometimes all you could hear in one day. But then Shane said something that instantly made me nervous, and put my arms around my sides. Right where the guns were situated.

"The truth is, less guns we have floating around camp the better."

Before Shane could the incriminating look on my face, I shuffled away quickly. Like I was doing an

imitation of a sly raccoon... A raccoon with guns.

When I got to Carol, she was looking out to the tree line. Avid to meet her daughter again.

"Hi Carol."

"It's getting dark, Marl" she squeaked.

"Well... Daryl is out there," I tried comforting her. "He found me, remember."

She didn't reply. This brought me to the conclusion that I failed at comforting her.

Then out of nowhere, Rick appeared. Daryl following suit. But with no Sophia. I inwardly cringed.

Carol immediately deflated.

"Y-You didn't find her?" Carol stuttered.

"Her trail went cold," Rick told her calmly. Guilt was clear in his blue eyes. "We'll pick it up again at first light."

"You can't leave my daughter out there on her own. To spend the night alone in the woods."

"Out in the dark's no good," Daryl rasped. "We'd just be tripping over ourselves. More people get lost"

This reminded of when Carl was in the RV after they had found me in the woods. Carl told me they had to wait the night because Daryl said it was too dark to search in the night.

"But she's twelve. She can't be out there on her own. You didn't find anything?" Carol pleaded.

I noticed the others had joined to watch the conversation. Particularly Lori, who had grasped Carol in attempt to calm her down.

"I know this is hard," Rick stated, lifting his hands up like his wife to calm her down. "But I'm asking you not to panic. We know she was out there."

"And we tracked her for a while," Daryl rasped again. Peeking at the fact that he did have the ability to be comforting. Or so I think so.

"We have to make this an organized effort," Rick said, now gesturing to all the group. "Daryl knows the woods better than anyone. I've asked him to oversee this."

I hadn't realised until then, but I had also been in those woods before. Me and the Dixon's didn't go far into them, as we like to stay close to the roads but not directly on them. I wasn't surprised that Daryl knew those woods. He had displayed a great sense of direction in our travels with Merle, seeming to have a map installed in his brain.

Carol's shaking hand pointed to Daryl. More specifically his trouser leg, where a patch of fresh blood was. This just made his dirty brown pants, just even more dirty and brown.

"I-Is that blood?" she asked.

"We took down a walker," Rick said quickly.

Still, Carol didn't like the sound of that. "A walker? Oh my God." She was close to hyperventilating.

"There was no sign it was anywhere near Sophia," Rick comforted, bending down to Carol's height.

"How can you tell?" I asked.

There was a long pause before Daryl confessed, "We cut the son o' bitch open. Made sure."

That was just vile. Everything must be just walker soup inside one of them.

Carol took some more deep breaths. Instead of passing out she opted to sit on the railing. She then looked up to poor Rick, who really needed a break. "How could you just leave her out there to begin with? How could you just leave her?"

"Those two walkers were on us," Rick defended. "I had to draw them off. It was her best chance."

"Sounds like he didn't have much of a choice, Carol," Shane added.

Rick was now kneeling down, wiping his face in frustration and probably regret. It was eating away at him.

"How was she supposed to find her way back on her own? She's just a child."

"It was my only option. The only choice I could make."

"I'm sure nobody doubts that," Shane spoke up to his friend.

It was clear to me that there was no convincing Carol. And all I could do was look at her with sad eyes.

She needed someone to blame, and that someone seemed to be Rick for now. It's easier to deal with losing someone when you blame someone. But if you blame yourself, that's when grief can be the most destructive.

That's what happened to me when my parents died. I blamed myself.

I mean how couldn't I blame myself. They died on my birthday, going out to get my present. I didn't even blame the damn dog they were getting that day. The policemen called it an accident.

I still blame myself to this day. I'm still convinced it was my fault.

I huffed in sadness. Everything was just so glum at this point.

I felt so rude to do it, but I had to walk away before I got too invested with my past.

Some people followed. Including Glenn, whom I hadn't spoken to in a while. He seemed to be putting me off ever since the CDC.

"Hey, Gle-"

I was cut off by myself, as I tripped over the big plastic bottle of water that Shane had brought over. I managed to stay balanced and not face-plant the ground.

Not such a sly raccoon any more.

I looked around, and Glenn was staring at me with concern. But he looked like he was regretting being concerned for me. "You okay?" he asked. It was in a tone that was totally not Glenn-like. It was slightly monotone. Not in any way full of feeling like he usually was.

"Yeah, I'm fine," I answered.

He took this like a cue to leave, and turned to walk away. But I wasn't finished with him.

"Glenn?"

He stopped in his tracks and looked back at me.

"Did I do something wrong, because I would really like to know?"

He paused.

"Nice hat," he answered, referring to the grey beanie on my head.

He avoided my question, which meant I definitely did something wrong.

I grasped the hat on my head, and whipped it at the floor. Stepping over it as I walked the opposite direction to him.

 


	27. wedding bells

_**Marley's P.O.V:** _

In the morning, we all got right back to business; to finding Sophia. Early enough that I was still half asleep and popping my back. Sleeping in an abandoned car was never the most comfortable thing. Correction: anything that is not specifically designed to be slept on (like a bed) is never the most comfortable thing to sleep on (unlike a bed).

Rick unrolled an arsenal of weapons on the hood of a car. Carl claimed he had found them.

"Everybody takes a weapon," he ordered, looking at all of us. I looked at the assortment. There were things like knives, machetes, hatchets, and things similar.

I immediately went for something that looked like a hook-knife-thing. It looked unique and deadly. Like a strong female lead in an action movie. I strapped the holster it had to one of my belt loops, tugging it to test whether it was tight enough.

Glenn opened up his own weapon, and saw that it was something almost identical to mine. He smiled at the funny shape. But when he caught me looking at him, he stopped and put it back in its holster.

"These aren't the kind of weapons he needs," Andrea said, jutting her hip out. "What about the guns?"

I had never seen her this bitchy before.

"We've been over that," Shane said. "Daryl, Rick, and I are carrying. We can't have people poppin'; off rounds every time a tree rustles."

"It's not the trees I'm worried about," Andrea instantly replied.

"Say someone fires at the wrong moment, a herd happens to be passing by. See, then it's game over for all of us. So you need to get over it," Shane said firmly.

Now, I know I had the guns under my shirt. I put them back on this morning.

And I did know that I should be handing them over. But I felt like I would be embarrassed, after all this discussion about how we can't all carry guns, and only now would I be handing them over. I felt like a school kid who hadn't handed in their homework, and hoped their teacher would just think they lost it.

I had told no one of them. I just needed to keep them there - for insurance.

Daryl cleared his throat from beside me. "The idea is to take the creek up about five miles, turn around and come back down to other side. Chances are she'll be by the creek. It's her only landmark."

"Stay quiet, stay sharp. Keep spaced between you but always stay within sight of each other," Rick said, finally.

"Everybody assemble your packs," Shane ordered.

We all assembled our packs. Meanwhile there was a slight dispute between Andrea and Dale (which we all watched awkwardly), and on whether Carl was allowed to come. They decided that he was and I was thrilled.

As if on instinct, I immediately followed Daryl. Having to walk a little faster due to his strutting pace.

In the woods, we soon formed a single line through the tall grass. In the order of Daryl, Rick, me, Andrea, Carol, Glenn, Carl, Lori, then Shane.

All you could hear were the puffs of everyone, we were already exhausted, and the ruffling of grass. I worried it was too loud, that if Sophia made a slight noise, then we wouldn't hear it.

I had to readjust myself every few moments or so. It just looked like I had a broken bra on. The shirt I had on wasn't the most comfortable thing either. It was scratchy, and the collar was incredibly stiff, also the sleeves only rolled up so far. The guns were heavy, and the straps pressed into my skin in

the most awkward places. I was starting to severely regret carrying guns I probably wouldn't use.

"Marley!" someone called from behind me. I instantly recognised the voice to be Carl's.

He ran up beside me, holding a weapon from the arsenal. He didn't say much else, just smiled at me. It seemed he just wanted to walk beside me, and closer to his dad.

"What you got there, young sir?" I whispered.

He looked up at me excitedly. "Dad said I could carry it, and Mom said as long as I was careful, I could practice with it later," he whispered.

"I'll practice with you too then," I whispered back, hooking my arm around his shoulder, ruffling his sweaty hair in the process.

It seemed that Daryl had spotted something, because he was slowing down. He put a finger up to Rick, silently ordering us to hold up.

I recognised this silent order from experience... but it wasn't that hard to decipher honestly. I automatically dropped to the ground, hands on the ground. I always did this. It was automatic.

Daryl looked over his shoulder and at me, knowing what I had just done.

His eyes lingered on me as I hastily stood up, brushing the dirt off my jeans.

Rick and Shane came up by him, all now eyeing the what was up ahead. I squinted my eyes, and saw a dirty green tent amidst the foliage.

Shane said the obvious, "She could be in there."

"A whole bunch o' things could be in there," Daryl counteracted. He lifted his crossbow just a bit higher.

Rick gestured for us all the stay put, as the three of them made their way forward. I hoped that Sophia was in there, so we could all go back and rest.

I stood by Carl, my arm back around his shoulders, slightly crouched down to his level.

"I hope she's in there," he whispered in my ear.

"Me too, young sir," I whispered back.

Rick soon called Carol the come forward. Something about Carol's voice being the first Sophia

should hear. We all followed her in curiosity.

"Sophia, sweetie, are you in there?" Carol called out. "Sophia, it's Mommy. Sophia. We're all here baby. It's Mommy."

I watched as Daryl was tensing his arms, holding them up. His grip on his knife was deadly. He silently, and surely started to unzip the door to the tent. The three men coughed into their shoulders, and I soon found out why as the stench reached me. I crinkled my nose in disgust.

Despite the stench, Daryl went inside the tent. It was silent again.

"Daryl?" Carol's voice interrupted the silence.

Daryl came back out. "She's not in there."

"What is in there?" I asked, stepping forward. Carl's hand was now grasping mine, as I stood up straight.

"Some guy," he replied. "Did what Jenner said, what'd he call it?"

"Opt out?" I looked him in the eyes and he looked back at mine. He nodded before looking away quickly, like I was the sun or something.

Just as all of our hopes were being crushed, church bells started ringing. I tensed up for a moment, as I think everyone else did.

 _'she could be ringing them'_ I thought, ' _she could still be alive'._

Rick pointed in the direction, and was off like a rocket, seeming to have the same thought as me. I took no hesitation in following our leader.

Rick and, surprisingly, I were at the front. We tuned in our ears, desperate to follow the chimes.

"What direction?" Shane asked, as we slowed down a bit. "Man, it's hard to tell out here."

"If we hear them, maybe Sophia does too," Carol states.

"If someone's ringing those bells they may be calling others," Glenn says.

"Or signalling that they found her," Andrea interjects.

"Or could be ringing them herself," Rick says, rushing forward.

We all followed him until we came to a clearing in the woods, with a church and cemetery nestled inside.

"That can't be it," Shane said. "Got no steeple, no bells." Rick took off anyway. "Rick."

I honestly hating all of this running. As I did, the guns under my shirt slightly tapped against my ribs. I guessed that these type of gun holsters were made for running. Then again, I got it off a male corpse taller than me.

As we come closer to the doors, Shane, Rick, and Daryl take the lead. They come up to the doors of the church. Rick signals us all the be quiet. He gently opens the doors.

I walk up a few more steps to get a closer look, and I see three walkers inside. One of them had a veil on their head, obviously she was a bride. Clearly not the best day of her life in the end. It reminded me that things really did turn badly that quick. I remember it taking only a night and half a day to turn Sedalia into a ransacked mess, full of fresh walkers.

They all turn slowly and growl at us, ready to have a meal and standing up. The three men in front of me look on at them, Daryl with his crossbow raised up ready to shoot one of them.

Rick reaches behind him to his wife, who gives him her machete. He steps into the church to kill the walker on the left. Shane already had a silent weapon, taking the one in the middle. Daryl turns to me and I hand him my weapon, exchanging it for his incredibly heavy crossbow. I hold it awkwardly in my arms as he takes the bride walker.

I keep my eyes on Daryl. He creeps up the walker, who sniffs the air desperately. He makes kissing noises, which catches its attention. As soon as she turns to him, he wipes her face with the hook of my weapon. It falls to the ground, and he backs out of the pew. The bride walker was down.

All the men finish killing their walkers. It falls silent as we realise Sophia is nowhere to be.

"Sophia!" Rick screams, and he opens another door to the outside.

I huffed in anger. Where was Sophia?

Sophia was so young, and so kind. She used to always plait my hair, telling me all the time that she loved my hair. She was too good. She was too sweet.

Although I didn't believe that what people were faced with had anything to do with what they deserved. Or what they deserved every came to them, because they deserved it. I didn't think Sophia deserved what she was getting. Neither did Carol

"Yo, J.C, you taking requests?" Daryl asked, walking up to the crucifix statue as the end of the church.

I didn't think Daryl believed in any higher power, so I think it was more of a mocking statement.

Just then, bells started ringing. The sound was loud, and annoying. Daryl pushes past me, followed by the other men. I follow them to the side of the church, where I see a speaker at the roof. Glenn wastes no time in ripping out the wires that work it.

"Timer," Daryl huffs. "It's on a timer."

"I'm gonna' go back in for a bit," Carol says, doing as she said she would do.

I readjust the crossbow in my arms, trying to find a stance where it is lighter. I fail. It's heavy in all positions. And with it in my arms, I can't fiddle with straps of my holster, which I realise it too tight around me.

I get so lost in my thoughts, that I get shocked when someone on my right places they're hand lightly on my hip. I jolt away from them automatically, but they pull me back just as quick by my belt loop.

I look and see it's Daryl, carefully putting my weapon back in my holster. He does that, then quickly takes the crossbow from my arms.

He goes to walk away, but my voice stops him in his tracks.

"Daryl?" I ask. When I see everyone else go back into the church and he turns around the face me, I proceed to ask him what has played on my mind. "What happened at the CDC?"

His eye twitched for a moment, and he went from foot to foot. But he didn't reply.

"I don't remember what happened" I confessed, walking closer to him. "I mean, I don't have a high tolerance, and I got pretty drunk."

"And it seems I did something bad, because nether you, Glenn, or Lori have talked to me properly since then."

He looked to the ground for a moment before looking back up to me. "I don't know wha's with Lori. It's best if you don' know what happened."

He went to walk away again, but I grasped his shoulder. "No! You don't get to decide what I get to know."

"Get off me girl," he growled. I immediately took my hand away from his shoulder, but he didn't move away.

"Don't baby me, Daryl," I seethed, looking him directly in the eyes. "What happened? What did I do wrong?"

He narrowed his eyes at me, contemplating on whether to tell me. "You tried to kiss me, Marley" he admitted, looking away from me.

What? Did I just hear that right. I tried to kiss him.

"Glenn walked in on it," he continued. He looked embarrassed to be saying it. "That damn boy left in a huff, obviously not likin' it."

"Why would he be angry at me for that?" I asked, mostly talking to myself.

"Ain' you seen him. He's like a damn schoolboy. Hearts in his eyes every time he looks at ya'" Daryl ranted, seeming angry himself

"Yes okay, Daryl," I stopped him before he could go any further.

It was silent between us.

Daryl walked up to the church doors and I let him.

I looked to my shoes awkwardly. I had really embarrassed myself, and I didn't even remember it.

Why had I tried to kiss Daryl? Did I succeed? Do I really feel that way for Daryl?

The last question really bugged me.

I thought of Daryl as my friend. But I obviously saw him differently to everyone else, since we had known each other for longer and we had been through some bad incidents. We looked after each other.

I was confused at myself. I wasn't resenting the fact that I tried to kiss him. It was a strange thought.

Daryl was not typically someone you would fall in love with. He wasn't societies version of Prince Charming, but I wasn't necessarily societies version of a Princess. We both seemed to be people that others would automatically resent. Either by our lifestyle or job. But the group didn't see the truth about me, so I was quite lucky.

I also didn't fret in thinking that Daryl was a handsome person. It was quite plain to see.

Wait! Do I _really_ see him that way?

My stomach twisted at my own thoughts. These were not things that were important in this day and age. But they seemed important to me.

_Where were these thoughts going?_

 


	28. crucifixion

_**Marley's P.O.V:** _

We were all gathered outside the church, by a tree. Rick and Shane were talking together. I was sitting on the grass next to Lori and Carl.

Lori kept her eyes away from me. I tried to talk to her about Carl practising using his weapon with me. She gave me one look and turned back to her son.

As the two men walked over to all of us, Shane rubbed the back of his head. Lori and I stood up from the grass. We waited expectantly for their orders.

"Y'all gonna follow the creek bed back, okay?" Shane announced. "Daryl, you're in charge. Me and Rick we're just gonna hang back, search this area another hour or so just to be thorough."

"You're splitting us up," Daryl stated. "You sure?"

"Yeah, we'll catch up to you."

Three people who momentarily seemed to detest me would be walking beside me. I saw the group splitting up as an opportunity.

"I'll keep looking too," I spoke up. Shane and Rick looked at me surprised. "I'll come with you."

I heard a scoff behind me. I already knew who it was before I turned to look at them. I gave him a deadly glare. I didn't seem to do much since Daryl still kept the smirk on his face that said, _"are you kidding?"_

"You sure?" Rick asked.

"Yeah, gotta make myself useful someday."

He nodded in reply, which meant I could go. I felt like a teenager that had to ask they're parents for information to go to a party. But I was just trying to grow up.

"I want to stay too," a little voice said. "I'm her friend," Carl insisted.

There was an awkward silence before Lori spoke up. "Just be careful, okay?"

"I will," Carl replied without missing a beat.

Whilst Rick walked over to Lori, I took a step towards Shane so I could join him. A hand gripped my shoulder, pulling me backwards, almost making me fall. The hand encompassed the whole top of my shoulder. I yelped as the person kept dragging me backwards till we were behind the tree near the group.

"You ain' goin'," the voice ordered. I turned and was met with Daryl's angry face.

"Again with the 'you can't tell me what to do' argument," I sighed, leaning on one foot.

He took a moment to look at my face, for some reason or other.

"You ain' no use to them," he sneered. "Ya' can hardly take down one walker, ya' can't track, hell you'll probably fall asleep ten minutes in."

"Way to put me down, Daryl."

I honestly didn't know why he was talking to me. We just had a conversation about how I attempted to kiss him in the CDC. That surely makes things awkward between us. He obviously didn't get the hint that I wanted to be away from three people that hated me at the moment.

"Good! Ya' don't need to go out and prove yourself to anyone Marley."

"Actually it's more of a, ' _I really need to get my shit together_ ' situation," I corrected, crossing my arms over my chest. "So let me. For God's sake Daryl, Carl is going too."

"I'm not completely incompetent, at least, not anymore."

Something in his eyes. I saw something. I had never seen it before. It looked be something of realisation, or shock. Like he was just dumped in a new situation. A cat in a new home. I had beaten him in this argument.

I took that as my cue to walk away. I stepped out from behind the tree. A few people were staring. Daryl and I must not have kept it that quiet.

Rick tried to offer his python to his wife. She refused. Daryl quickly stepped out from the shade of the tree as well, offering her a gun. She took it carefully.

Daryl gave me one last look of warning before leading the other half of the group. I stayed where I was standing, watching them walk in the direction towards the woods.

I looked over my shoulder. Rick said something to Shane before strolling towards the church.

I stepped up to Carl and Shane. Shane turned to look down at me, concern in his eyes. I saw him look towards Daryl behind me.

"You alrigh'?" he asked, squinting in the sunlight.

We should really try and find some sunglasses. It seems like something we never considered.

He was still looking at Daryl's strutting figure in the distance, so I presumed he heard Daryl and I' conversation.

"He just has little faith in me," I said quietly, looking up at Shane's towering figure.

Shane never failed to intimidate me. If I was caught speeding and he came to my window... I would follow all of his instructions with an awkward smile on my face.

"That's just stupid," he looked down to me smirking. I smiled back at him gratefully.

He ruffled Carl's hair, muttering a small, "Come on." He led us both to the steps outside the church. Carl and Shane sat down on the church steps to wait for Rick, but I decided against that and walked into the church.

The stench of the previous walkers hit me first, then I saw Rick in front of the crucifix. I walked in quietly as to not disturb him.

"I don't know if you're looking at me with what?" He tilted his head, sighing. "Sadness? Scorn? Pity? Love?... Maybe it's just indifference." He took his hat off, letting out scoff through his nose. "I guess you already know I'm not much of a believer. I guess I just chose to put my faith elsewhere. My family, mostly. My friends. My job. The thing is, we--" he finally looked up to the statue but turned away just as quickly. He took a long pause, looking off into the distance, contemplating what he was going to say. "I could use a little something to help keep us going. Some kind of... acknowledgement. Some indication I'm doing the right thing. You don't know how hard that is to know."

Just from those words, I could tell that he was tearing up. He was begging a higher power that he hardly believed in to give him a sign on whether he was doing the right thing or not. He couldn't go on his own judgement. He was deeply unsure. I don't think I've seen anyone ask how he was about losing Sophia. We were all so focused on comforting Carol, we didn't take a glance at the man who actually lost her. He must have felt a guilt he had never felt before. I didn't know a lot about Rick Grimes, just what his son had told me, and from what I'd had heard, he seemed to be a man who did nothing wrong. But what happens to a man who does everything right, suddenly does something wrong?

This then made me concerned for the man, which I had never done for him before. I don't think I had spoken to him much. But now he needed comforting.

Rick sniffed away his tears. Then his next words seemed to be laced with humour, a complete turn on what he was previously saying. " Well, maybe you do." He put his sheriffs hat back on, seeming to be done with what he was saying.

When he abruptly turned, he saw me standing there. He suddenly realised I had been listening in on his little conversation with whoever.

He looked at me with urgency then turned back around, taking baited steps, and continuing his speech. "Hey look, I don't need all the answers. Just a little nudge. A sign." He seemed more desperate with his words now.

He was begging a statue. "Any sign will do"

It took him a few seconds before he turned around again. He was headed for the entrance, sending me a small glance.

Before he could get past me, however, I held my arm out and placed it on his chest. He looked down at me.

"Has anyone asked you if you're okay?" I asked quietly.

He smirked for a split second, then he looked me in the eyes and it fell. It seemed to me that his answer was "no".

"Are you okay?" I questioned, smiling up at him sadly.

He nodded. "I'm fine," he muttered. The Sheriff's deputy took my hand which was still placed on his chest and held it in his, squeezing it tightly. It seemed to be a quiet thank you.

He looked back to the statue behind him, then back to me. "Are you gonna' say anythin'?"

I didn't believe in God at all. At least not now. But for some reason, I felt I needed to get my two cents in. "Yeah, won't be long."

He nodded in understanding, then let go of my hand to walk outside.

I slowly looked up to the crucifix. It depicted Jesus with blood curdling down his forehead from the crown of thorns atop of it. I was questioning myself on what he must have been thinking, like Rick had just done. Honestly, he looked bored, and uncaring.

I took a few careful steps towards it, hardly making it past one pew. I looked it in the eyes, but it did not to me.

"Last time I asked you for something," I sighed deeply. I blinked back tears. I was not going to give in. I hadn't cried in days, I wasn't going to start now. "You gave me the exact opposite..." I lowered my voice to a low whisper.

Although I listened in on Rick, I wouldn't appreciate if he was listening to me right now, "...You gave me life. All those years ago. I asked you specifically not too. You don't really stick to your job description do you. Despite how much I have given you, and how much you have taken away from me. I ask for one thing, and you don't even bother to tell me why I cannot have it. Why I had to live and they didn't."

My words were now coming out as strangled sobs. I stood there, weak knees, and hands balled into tight fists. "So don't tangle with our affairs anymore... you're terrible at doing it... if you _ever_ did."

I wiped my cheeks, getting them slightly dirty. When I pulled them away, they weren't wet.

I hadn't cried.

I turned on my heel, strolling up to the three people waiting for me. All of their backs were turned to me, so I figured that they at least tried not to listen in on what I was saying.

Rick stood up first, looking down to his son and then to me. "Carl, I want you to stick right close to Marley, okay?"

Carl looked to me, then to his Dad. "That's cool."

I stepped down the rest of the stairs, holding out my hand to Carl who took it eagerly.

We followed behind the Sheriff's Deputy into the Forest. Rick, Me, Carl, and Shane close behind.

+

We had been walking silently for a while now. We had all tuned our ears into our surroundings. Going into full tracker mode. But there was no sign of Sophia.

There was no rock turned squirely, no footprints, no strings of fabric. But luckily, there was no blood. At least she was alive.

I once again, readjusted my hidden gun holster.

Suddenly, a twig snapped. We all instantly stopped, and Rick raised his hand.

I looked around, seeing nothing of any danger. But I still kept a firm grip on Carl's hand.

Rick gesture in the left-forward direction. Shane followed his silent order, and stepped around me and Carl.

All four of us took the quietest steps we could possibly take. In the distance, through the tree, I saw a figure that resembled not a human, but a large four-legged animal.

Rick took a step into a small clearing of trees. Shane raised his gun at the ready, but faltered it as he saw what it really was.

It was a deer.

It sniffed the ground, as it trotted through the brambles of trees. It stepped out so it was in full view. It's fuzzy antlers standing tall, ruffling it's coat as a slight chill passed through the air.

I saw in the corner of my eye as Rick's face contorted from utter concentration to pure hope. I think that he was thinking this was the sign he was looking for. The sign he asked for back in that church.

Shane raised his gun ready to shoot, but Rick whispered his name and turned to see Carl tugging my arm quietly.

As he held my hand, we both walked closer to the deer.

I had never seen anything so beautiful in ages. I didn't believe this was a sign of anything, but it was a moment to hold. It was definitely another thing to see these for real. In all their glory.

I looked down to the young boy beside me, and his face mirrored mine. A smile spread across his lips.

We accidentally stepped on a twig. It snapped and caught attention of the buck. It peered its head towards us, eyeing us carefully.

It looked directly at Carl, and directly at me.

I thought we could call that happy moment in our lives.

But as a gunshot ran through the air, the buck fell, and the clutch holding onto my hand was swiftly taken from me. Slipping through my fingers like liquid.

The breath caught in my throat. My hand felt empty. My eyes were wide.

I turned to look at Carl, but only found him in amongst the dirt and leaves. A patch of blood started to spread on his abdomen.

 


	29. pain riddled boy

**_Marley's P.O.V:_ **

Running.

Despite me being my size, I wasn't that fit. Running was my least favourite. Especially now. It was essential these days.

You run, or you die.

So you have to be good at running.

My lungs and ribs ached. Each intake of breath was sharp and cold. My throat felt constricted. I felt like I couldn't run any longer. My calves burned, my heels in pain.

_Carl's been shot._

_Carl's been shot._

_Carl's been shot._

_Carl's been shot._

_Carl's been shot._

I repeat that though in my head as it seems to be taking me a lot further than I thought.

_Carl's been shot._

The only sounds I could hear was my struggled breathes, and Rick's mournful cries and hisses.

Behind me, he was carrying his son. Blood already staining half of his shirt and hands.

Behind him is Shane, and the man who shot Carl.

The man was large and had a graying beard and baseball cap.

He seemed familiar.

But I couldn't think about that right now.

I had to keep focused.

_Carl's been shot._

The man gave us instructions and directions, to take Carl to a farm. That was where we could get Carl help.

I ignore the hollow thuds against my sides. I keep going. And that surprises me.

"Hey, you move, shithead," Shane yelled at the man. His voice seemed distant, which alerted me as to how far away I had run. "Come on, get I said."

"How far? How far?!" Rick screeched.

"Another half mile, that way!" the man shouted back, breathless.

He said something else, but I didn't hear him. He wasn't shouting loud enough for me to hear him. The guys behind me had faltered whilst I stayed focused

_Carl's been shot._

Amongst my heavy breathing, and the stamps of all our feet on the dry grass beneath us, I could hear Shane's voice.

"Go, Marley!" he yelled, taking a large gulp of breath before continuing. "Marley, Run! Keep going! Get there!"

Instead of helping me run faster, his voice pulled me out of focus, and I was slowing down. I was giving into the fatigue. I couldn't run anymore. But I had to.

I blocked out his voice and any other sound than the sound in my head. The repeating image of Carl's body on the ground.

His eyes were closed when I turned to look at him after his hand left mine. I hadn't heard him wince, or scream. It was like he was hit with sleep, not a bullet.

_Carl's been shot._

Soon, the ground beneath me started to levitate. Using all of my energy to get up the small hill, I then saw a fence.

The fence seemed to run for miles around fields. Seeming to be directly in the centre, was a house. Not too far from that was a barn.The place looked to be untouched. Unfazed. I already felt envy for these people, and how they seemed to have come out of all this unscathed.

But I hadn't even met the people.

As I squinted my eyes, my eyes getting dry from the constant wind batting at my face.

I ran past some wire fence, and glance over my shoulder.

Rick was readjusting his son in his arms.

"Come on, Rick!" I ordered, setting off running again towards the house.

It didn't take long for me to get to the porch steps, which I collapsed on. I had made it.

People emerged from the front door. In front was an old man, white hair and braces. Behind him, a young boy with a baseball bat. To the left was a woman in a faded dress, and behind her was a pretty blonde girl. To the right was another woman, short brown hair and ripped jeans. She was the one I saw run into the house.

The old man looked down at my hyperventilating form, a questioning look in his eyes.

"His... so-sons been shot," I breathed, clasping the bricks bellow me. My neck strained from looking up at him. He seemed familiar, like the man who shot Carl. "You're ma-... man shot him. Please... help."

"Otis?" the woman in the faded dress asked, shocked.

That was his name.

Soon enough, they looked up from me and I knew that Rick had made it.

The older man ordered Rick to bring him inside. As they all clambered back into the house, I crawled up from the steps. My thighs, calves, and generally my whole body protested against me getting up. But I needed to.

_Carl's been shot._

I followed them, trying to catch my breath. I was now feeling the real pain in my lungs and my abdomen. My stomach was tight, and I felt like throwing up. But now was not the time.

Rick carried him into a bedroom, and I followed.

Carl was now on the bed, still unconscious.

"Pillowcase," the man ordered, directing it at Rick. But he was in too much of a daze and shock to comprehend what he had said.

I was gripping the edge of the bed, staring at Rick from the opposite side of the bed. I collapsed to my knees but stayed upright.

"Is-is he alive?" Rick asked.

"Pillowcase, quick," the man repeated.

Rick now complied, taking a pillow from the bed.

I then focused my eyes on Carl.

He had a thick layer of sweat on his face. He was pale but still held a pink tint to his lips. This lifted me with hope, that he wasn't dead.

Rick pressed the pad he made to the boy's wound. I pulled my hands away from the thin sheets of the bed, to lay them on top of Rick's bloody ones. I pressed harder than he was. He was clearly out of it.

The old man placed a stethoscope on Carl's chest. I held my breath as the man's eyes read the air, listening.

"I've got a heartbeat," he announced. I let go of my breath, relaxing my tense shoulders.

Both women urged Rick that they had it, and they needed space. I small hint of anger laced through my veins, but I quickly suppressed it.

"Your name?" the older man asked, turning to the dazed father.

Rick could hardly let out any words.

"His name's Rick, that's Carl, and I'm Marley," I said to the man. I wringed my hands together, the blood spreading across my wrists and palms.

He did a double-take at me but quickly looked to Rick.

"Rick, we're gonna do everything we can, okay?" The man comforted, loudly. "You need to give us some room. Now."

Rick stepped back, slowly towards the door. I took one last glance at the little boy's face before following him.

I looked down to my feet, seeing tiny droplets of blood creating a path towards the front door. I didn't usually throw up at the sight of any anatomy; blood, brains, emaciated walkers. But I felt bile rise up in my throat. I swallowed it quickly. My throat burnt.

I followed the blood covered man, his footsteps heavy and sluggish. He opened the front door, stepping out into the cool breeze. A better feeling came over me than the feeling I had in there. Out here, I could breath better.

Shane and the man; who I now knew as Otis, walked up the steps where I once laid.

Worry laced both of their faces, more so in Shane's. He looked at the man beside me, who took off his hat.

"He's still alive?" he asked, searching through his partners eyes for anything comprehendable.

Again, the father fell short of words, and just opened and closed his mouth repeatedly. He was visibly unable to handle the situation he was currently in.

I couldn't say I knew how he felt. I never had a child. I never had a child that was shot. Saying _"I know how you feel_ " never helps in my opinion. At least not for me.

"He's in there... with the man," I stuttered, filling in for the trembling man beside me. "He has a heartbeat."

Rick lifted his hand to his forehead, and I watched as he managed to smear blood there. Shane rose a few more steps, looking through his bag and coming out with a pink rag. He started wiping the blood from his friends face, sending comforting words his way.

I looked down the my own bloody hands. They weren't as a mess as Rick's, but they still had a good amount on them. Which really shows how much blood Carl lost.

I squinted my green eyes, as I tightly knitted my fingers together, squeezing my hands together to the point where they were shaking. Violently.

Shane, Rick, and Otis retreated inside to go look in on Carl.

I stayed outside, and sat on the steps. I made sure to stay away from the blood droplets that laid there. I leaned my head against the banister. I still held my hands together, painfully squeezing them.

My head hurt. A deep thumping rang through my synapses. It was like someone was knocking the door to get in my brain. It hurt like hell.

It must be what it felt like to hold in a cry.

Did it build up like water in a well? Or was it like air pressure?

I wouldn't know, I never not let myself cry. I normally let it take over.

I wasn't letting myself. But the knocking kept happening.

_Knock! Knock!_

I cracked my knuckles, making me twitch from the crunching noise that echoes through them. They squelch. I do anything to crack them again, but they simply make no noise.

_Knock... knock._

I stand from my seat, taking in a deep breath. I walk onto the grass, breathing in the country air. It seems to be untouched, so it feels that way. It feels kind of glorious. Some sort of freedom comes with it.

 _Knock... Knock._ It starts again.

I look at the house in front of me. It's rather large. Most of it was surprisingly white. Again, with the untouched thing about it.

There had to be a catch, surely. Maybe it was that this all looked very familiar. Eerily familiar. But I couldn't put my finger on it. That made it press my buttons.

I looked down, scowling.

"Marley?"

I looked up quickly, only finding Shane.

"Are you all right?" he asked, looking at me through his eyebrows.

I walked quickly towards him, aiming to walk past him. He grasped my shoulder, holding me in front of him.

"Aw- Marl," he whispered, taking my wrists in his. He looked at the now dry blood that reached the middle of my forearm. He took the pink rag he used for Rick, out of his pocket.

He ran it up my arms. It was useless. It wasn't coming off.

"Come on, inside, Marley."

+

It seems like hours as we sit in the living room. I spend it staring at the brown wooden door. I only hear hushed whispers coming from the room, the clock ticking from the wall, and the pounding in my head which has dulled down to a light thumping.

Shane and Rick sit across from me, hands up to their mouths in anticipation.

I keep my eye on Rick. He could break any moment.

The door suddenly opened, the woman whom I hear her name was Maggie stepped out.

I had learned all of their names. There was Hershel, Maggie, Patricia and Otis whom I knew do far.

"Rick," she said anxiously. He jumped to his feet, with Shane and I not far behind. I sensed that something was wrong. Deeply wrong.

We walk into the room, and Carl is a mess. He seemed paler than before. More sweat, and the smell of iron hit my sinuses. He was struggling under the grasp of metal tongs sticking into his stomach. I didn't know what Hershel was trying to do.

I wanted to hit Hershel in the face, because whatever he was doing was causing Carl to scream for his Dad. His hands grasped the bed sheets, as Patricia tried to hold him down.

He needed blood

"You," Hershel ordered Shane. "Hold him down."

Shane complied and took Patricia's place, placing his arms across Carl's chest and hips.

I stood there shocked, glued to the spot. I had never seen anyone in so much pain before. It looked excruciating. My heart ached for Carl.

I would consider Carl one of my best friends. Our long conversations together fused us together. He was so brave and genuine and honest and kind to me. I didn't want us to lose this kid. He meant a lot to me.

Carl screamed louder.

"Stop!" Rick screeched, hesitating from giving blood. "You're killing him."

"Rick, do you want him to live?" Hershel counteracted.

I looked from the pain riddle boy, to the man that needed to give him what he needed.

"Do it, Rick. Now!" I yelled at him.

He held his arm out to Patricia, who pricked his skin with a needle.

I looked back to the young sir. I knelt on the bed and put his head between my hands. He was cold on contact.

Suddenly, his eyes rolled back in his head and he closed them. His body slumped, and his head fell from my hands. Just like his hand did in the forest.

My breathing quickened and I started panicking. Me and Shane looked to each other, then to the old man in front of us.

I couldn't lose Carl.

"He just passed out," Hershel comforted. He pulled away the tongs from the boy's stomach, revealing a shrapnel piece of bullet. Saying, "one down... five to go," he put it in a metal tin, making a clinking sound.

I let out a breath of relief. Carl was okay - for now.

 


	30. this creature

**_Marley's P.O.V:_ **

The bedroom door opened once again. Shane stepped away from Rick's embrace.

They just had a long talk about Rick not leaving, for both Carl and Lori's sake. How he would never forgive himself if something bad happened to his son while he was gone. How Shane would break his legs if he tried to leave.

Everything Shane had said held uttermost sincerity. I didn't for one time think that Shane wouldn't hesitate to hurt his partner if it was for Carl's benefit right now.

I stepped away from the wall by the door to look at Hershel better. He was wiping his hands clean.

I wished that I could wipe my hands clean. They still held a red colour to them. The blood had dried and stained my palms and fingers.

I didn't have time to find water. I was too busy trying to calm my heart that was aching for Carl's sake.

"He's out of danger for the moment," Hershel directed at the father.

I dropped my tense shoulders, breathing out quickly.

"But I need to remove those remaining fragments," he then said, making me worried just a fraction more.

"How? You saw how he was," I said.

"I know, that was the shallowest one. I need to go deeper to get the others."

I scrunched my eyebrows in frustration. This was just getting harder by the second.

"There's more," Hershel added. "His belly's distended, his pressure's dropping, which means there's internal bleeding. A fragment must have nicked one of the blood vessels. I have to open him up, find the bleeder and stitch."

I ran a hand through my hair, realising how sweaty it had gotten. I left my hand on my forehead. Poor Carl was going through a war, much less a battle in the space of a day.

"And he can't move while I'm in there - I mean, at all," Hershel instructed. "If he reacts the same as before, I'll sever an artery and he'll be dead in minutes."

"To even try this, I have to put him under. But if I do, he won't be able to breathe on his own. Same bad results."

There was a long pause as I racked my brain. I dug through my memories of visiting the hospital frequently. From just being ill, a fractured wrist, dislocated a shoulder, or just simply appendicitis.

"You have a respirator, right?" I asked the doctor.

"Unfortunately, no."

Otis stepped up from the back of the room. I was still angry with him for shooting Carl. "Okay, respirator. What else do you need?"

"The tube that goes with it, extra surgical supplies, drapes, sutures," Hershel looked between Otis and I.

"If you had all that you could save him, or at least try?" I asked desperately, slowly gaining more hope by the minute.

"Nearest hospital went up in flames a month ago," Otis looked at me, then back to his friend. "The high school."

"That's what I was thinking. They set up a FEMA shelter there. They would have everything we need."

For a moment, it felt like this situation would become a walk in the park. Then I actually thought about the world we lived in. Otis only confirmed my worries.

"The place was overrun, last time we saw it. Maybe it's better now."

I saw Shane shift from my left. I looked over to his face and saw that he was contemplating... possibly going.

"I said, leave the rest to me," he said gruffly. "Is it too late to take that back?" he joked, referring to his and Rick's conversation from earlier.

"I hate you going alone," Rick croaked, still weak from the blood transfusion.

"He won't be going alone," I piped up. I didn't know where those words came from. They just seemed automatic.

"I know you want to help," Shane said, in a tone you would use on children. That royally pissed me off. If I could, I would emit steam from my ears.

"Yes, I do! I can't sit on my ass here while someone else helps one of my best friends! I can't even look at him!"

"Marley, if you hadn't noticed," Shane now sounded more like an angry parent. "You _cannot_ shoot a gun, and you ran off into the woods when danger came about."

"You pushed me into the fire that night, in case you didn't remember," I seethed. "And what makes you think I can't shoot a gun?"

Now I was going to tell a small lie. Small. Maybe part of it was true, but I didn't even know myself.

"I was with the Dixons for weeks. I picked up a few things."

Before Shane could say a comeback, Rick cut him off. "Shane!"

We all looked to his pale face.

"She can go... we- we don't have time to argue."

Shane huffed in anger, crossing his arms.

The truth was if I had picked up anything from the Dixon's in any amount of days. Today would be the day that I would know for sure if that was true.

"Fine, but you'll have to put your scaredy cat act aside," Shane instructed, pointing his finger in my face.

I nodded strongly.

"Doc, why don't you do us a list and draw us a map," Shane asked.

Otis stepped forward some more in the corner of my eye. "You won't need a map," he said. "I'll take you both there. Ain' but five miles"

"Otis, no!" Patricia protested.

"Honey, we don't have time for guesswork and I'm responsible. I ain't gonna sit here while this fella and lady take this on by themselves," Otis continued, a guilty look clear in his eyes. "I'll be alright."

Normally I would say, more people, more chance of disaster, but I felt that Carl was too important to worry about bringing too many people. We needed anyone who could help, to help. That included me.

I just wanted Carl to get better sooner rather than later.

So, I was all for Otis coming along.

+

Shane had told me to wait outside on the porch as he and Otis prepared things.

I looked out to the green vast fields. Again, I had this feeling that I knew this place. That I had at least seen it once.

I breathed in the fresh air.

It reminded me that the thing I hated most about walkers was the smell. It wasn't that I didn't like the smell that was the worst part, it was that it was constant and always lingering in the fabrics of the wind. Not only that but added into the mixture was general dead corpses and rotten food.

Whereas here, it was like if the smell of walkers was a loud sound, here it would be silent.

Even if there was that underlining of cow manure.

A door suddenly opened behind me, followed by rushed footsteps.

I turned to my right in time to see Maggie, the doctors daughter. She passed a kind smile to me, before trotting down the steps, a baseball bat in hand. She was going to find Lori and bring her to her family. Bring her to the farm and to the man that shot her son.

She trotted down the steps, heading towards the stables.

"Hey, Maggie?" I called out. She stopped abruptly and looked at me, impatient. "You're going to get Lori, right?"

"Yeah, and you're going with Otis to get medical supplies," she counteracted. It seemed strange that someone could actually say that about me now. That I was doing something helpful towards the group.

"Well..." I thought for a moment about what I was going to tell her, and if I really needed to. But then again, it was Daryl. "Daryl, the guy who's leading them, probably won't let Lori go with you without wanting to interrogate you first."

She placed her hands on her hips. "I'm guessing that you have something catchy for me to say."

I smiled at her wit and sass. "Just tell him, 'Ariel, says it's okay'." She looked confused for a moment but then quickly composed herself.

She nodded quickly, gave me a wave, and started jogging towards the stable instead of just a quick walk.

I watched as her figure became smaller.

When I went to cross my arms, it suddenly became apparent that I had forgotten of the guns under my shirt. Despite it being probable that they made bruises on my body by now from that Olympian sprint I did.

Olympian probably wasn't the right word. _Baby duck_ , more like.

I unfastened my shirt buttons, revealing a loose black tank top, with my gun holster tightened around my boobs.

It hurt like a bitch, now that I was thinking about it. I guess, ignorance really is bliss.

Laying the shirt on the railing of the porch, I fiddled with the buckle for a few moments before it came loose. It was like I was a marionette doll, and the strings had been cut from limbs, except the strings were cut from my diaphragm. I could breathe properly now. I let out a long sigh and laid the holster next to my shirt, earning a loud clank from the contact with wood.

I pulled the shirt back around my shoulders, the feeling of fabric instead of leather against my body was a much more pleasant experience.

It felt like only just then that I had the chance to think... or at least think lightly, as to not get me into darker places.

More footsteps could be heard behind me, and I snatched the guns away from the railing panicked. I swivelled around on my heels, keeping them behind my back.

A tired Otis appeared, carrying a large rucksack and a rifle over his shoulder. The rifle that shot Carl. That was what I named it inside my head.

Behind him was Shane and Rick walked out. My heart thumped in my chest, as Shane looked suspiciously at my right arm which held the guns behind my back.

They both walked up to me. Shane passed me a large rucksack which was identical to his, which hung over his shoulder. I grabbed it with my free hand.

Rick didn't seem suspicious at all, as he extended his hand towards me, python in hand.

Twitching my cheek, I sighed in defeat and pulled my hand away from my back, revealing the treasure withheld in them. Immediately my palms grew sweaty holding them out in the open for them to see. I was scared I would drop them, and they would somehow break rendering them useless.

Both of the men in front of me, stiffened at the sight before them. Whilst Rick just seemed shocked, Shane's poise was that more of anger.

He snatched the gun from my hand like I was a child. But seriously... I was twenty.

"The hell you get these?" he prodded, turning the two guns in his hands whilst they stayed with leather bound around them. He opened up the magazine, seeing it was fully loaded. From his observations, it seemed that the guns were in good condition.

"We agreed, no guns for people who aren't experienced," Rick ordered, gaining a more authoritative tone, as it seemed he was getting more of his blood back by the minute. He was still deathly pale and grey, but not as worse as Carl.

"Yes," I stressed. "I know... and I'm sorry I just-" I fumbled for words to explain that I had been carrying them around for the sake of my own safety even though I would be surrounded by people who could protect me, and it was more of an inner mission. They both raised their eyebrows at me. It seemed everyone was my parent nowadays.

"It... was insurance."

There was a long pause as both of them stared me down. I didn't exactly know their emotions at that point. Rick looked more like he had discovered a new hidden species, whereas Shane looked like he wanted to take that new species and use it for military experimentation.

_How could this creature benefit me?_

Well, this creature was feeling nervous as heck as they both had some telepathic-best-friends-moment when they locked gaze with each other.

Shane spoke up first. "You shouldn't have done that," he said sternly. I nodded in understanding, bowing my head and expecting him to take the guns away from me.

Instead, I saw Rick grab them and push them towards me.

I looked up from the floor, then between them and then to the guns.

I went to reach out for them gratefully, but Rick snatched them away at the last moment. He looked me in the eyes and said, "Just this once."

I nodded again in understanding.

I placed them in my hands, and Shane let out a tiny scoff of disbelief, I think he was trying to keep to himself. But I heard it clear enough. He hopped down the steps, slinging his rucksack over one of his shoulders. I started strapping the guns over the top of my clothes, having no need to conceal them.

Shane didn't think I could do this.

But he was one of the people letting me go, so he's basically ridiculing a decision which was about 50% his own.

Rick watched me carefully from the corner of his eye, and it made me uncomfortable to be honest. When I finished the straps, he was still staring at me.

"Thank you," he uttered quietly.

_He said thank you._

No one ever said thank you to me. And he just did.

No one ever had a reason to say it, or even imply it for that matter. And yet, it rolled off his tongue like he would to his best friend Shane.

It felt like another piece was added to my puzzle.

"Don't thank me yet," I said. "Just, don't let anything happen to him while I'm gone. Please," I almost begged.

I couldn't look him in the eyes, as I feared I would make the poor man go into shock again.

But I was so grateful that Rick Grimes said thank you to me.

We both walked towards the blue truck, which I presumed was Otis'. I hauled my hiker bag onto the bed of it.

Hershel came trotting up behind us, a list of supplies in hand, and he passed them over to me. I didn't know why he trusted me with them. I would presume he would give them to Otis since he knew what all this stuff we were getting actually was, and Hershel knew him better.

But, I still took it tightly in my hands, my fingers still bloody but dry. A complete contrast to the yellowish paper. The material felt foreign in my hands.

Shane and I leant up against the vehicle, as Otis hugged his partner, Patricia.

Then, Rick offered his python to him, just like he did to me earlier. But, before he considered it, Otis looked to Hershel who had a facial expression that was a mix of fury and secrecy. Despite this obviously warning face, Otis grasped it tightly in his hands, promising he would bring it back.

Shane tapped my shoulder, and when I turned to face him, saw he was holding open the door for me. I would obviously be going in the middle, being the smallest.

I slid in, finding it weird, since every car I seemed to be in these days, I always had the window seat.

Then the cop hopped in, using the roof of the car to lower himself.

"Only shoot when you need to, we ain' got a lot o' bullets. Stick by me, do as I say."

That took me back to the Dixon brothers. That little "the usual" that I hadn't heard in weeks. The context behind those two words, that held more commands and rules than a catholic school... or any school for that matter.

Despite Merle, Daryl and I never being truly safe out there, it was simpler days.

Now, instead of being told to hide on the floor of a car with only my good intentions, I was being commanded to shoot.

I didn't know which I liked more; the simpler days or these days.

"Just one more thing... Please, for your own good Marley... get out of this car."

I was taken back by what he had said.

A sudden urge of relinquishment washed over me.

I turned to face him. "No."

"Then, don't die," he finally said, not taking his eyes from the field out in front of us.

I settled into my seat, looking out to the same view he had. "Do it everyday.

 


	31. stupid, clever girl

_**Third Person P.O.V:** _

That stupid, stupid girl.

That's what Daryl was thinking of. That stupid girl.

He called her stupid because she obviously didn't see that you can't just go out, find a weapon and try and prove your worth in a single day.

Daryl knew about those guns. He saw them beside her whilst she was sleeping.

She had opted to find a car that was clean enough to sleep in that past night. Something that Daryl decided to do too. He wasn't going to sleep on his motorcycle, and there sure as hell wasn't any room in the R.V or any other car.

With Marley's convenient luck of finding things, she had found the cleanest car in the lot. No blood, dirt... it seemed that it was once owned by someone who had severe O.C.D.

He stumbled upon her lying form, and saw in the clear moonlight, the brown leather straps and two perfectly clean colt M1911A1 semi-automatics that he guessed had belonged to someone from the FBI since armed forces didn't tend to use them anymore.

They were old but good.

How she had found such a useful array of things, he never knew. It was just one of the things she was good at doing... or being lucky at doing.

He didn't tell anyone about the guns because she didn't. He just followed her lead in concealing them.

But now he wished he had been the snitch, and told either Shane or Rick. Maybe that would have made them think a lot more before letting her go off with them.

Maybe he should have told Andrea, who would have popped a few screws at Marley.

He wasn't used to her not being there. It had become a routine with him.

Not being someone who particularly had a set of motions he would go through every day in order to keep sane, before the end of the world. It was like he had fallen into an internal trap.

When it was just Merle, Marley and him, he got used to it. And he liked it. It gave him some sort of purpose. Something he didn't really have before.

He tightened his grip on his crossbow, trying to clear his thoughts. Focusing on the grass, overturned stones.

_Not Marley!_

_Marley. Her stupid name_ , he thought.

When he first heard it, he thought that maybe she had another nickname besides Ariel. That her real name must be kept secret. That she would never really utter her real name in anyone's presence. But he thought it was kind of silly to say that she would fake a name twice. It would just be a waste of time.

And her last name. He had never heard it before.

He didn't hear a lot of Dixons around, or even at all. Sure. But Van Allan just seemed fake to him. Like she had created yet another persona to live by.

 _Wouldn't that mean that she despised her true self?_ he thought to himself.

These questions and thoughts about the twenty-year-old stupid girl normally laid in his head for a few hours before flowing away.

Daryl heard Andrea and Lori converse behind him, causing him to stop in his tracks and turn to the sheep behind him.

Lori was turned away from the group, looking off into the distance.

It was obvious to everyone that she was dwelling on the gunshot from earlier.

"We all heard it," the hunter responded, shifting from one foot to another.

"Why one?" she questioned. "Why just one gunshot?"

"Maybe they took down a walker?" he shrugged.

He knew they wouldn't be that stupid, though.

 _Unless... that stupid girl had something to do with it_ , he pondered.

"Please don't patronize me," Lori snapped. "You know Rick wouldn't risk a gunshot to put down one walker. Or Shane. They'd do it quietly"

Again, Daryl's thoughts went back to Marley being with them.

He called her stupid, but he knew she was smart. But she got scared easily... but not lately.

Daryl shook the thoughts away at the overcomplicated situation. Women were tricky in the man's eyes. Marley really took that to another level with him, though.

"But, Marley might not do it that quietly," Andrea said.

"But, it's just one gunshot, and she doesn't even have a gun," Lori counteracted, putting her hands on her hips.

"Things can happen."

"She didn' shoot nothin'" Daryl spoke up, that protectiveness rising up inside him. He had no control over it.

With that, everyone silently agreed.

It was a thing known throughout the long-gone camp back at the quarry, that Daryl knew Marley best. No questions asked. Except. maybe Carl knew her the second best.

Daryl obviously didn't know that everyone thought this. It was more of an inside joke for everyone excluding the lady in question and himself.

It went from as simple as Daryl telling anyone who asked, where she was; he knew her sleeping schedule; what foods she tolerated and which ones she detested. He didn't see anything abnormal about that. He didn't even notice it.

He was just... accommodated to her.

"There's nothing we can do about it anyway," he finally said, looking around the forest floor. His blue eyes scanning the leaves and foliage. "Can't run around woods chasing echoes."

"So what do we do?"

"Same as we've been," he said authoritatively, yet still holding that redneck twang. "Beat the bush for Sophia, work our way back to the highway."

+

After some more painstaking walking, and no sign of Sophia, or any knowledge on what that gunshot meant, the tired group decided to call it a day.

Unfortunately for them, it was just more walking, but in the other direction. But this time, their walking was a lot more quick. Less observant, and more desperate to get back to the highway.

The hunter had insisted that it was only about one hundred yards left till they got back... as the crow flies.

"As the crow flies, my ass," Andrea muttered, wiping off some cobwebs she had walked a few paces back.

Her heavy footfalls thumped against the dirt, tired.

She unknowingly had a walker on her tail, and as she walked past a tree, it fully noticed her and she fully noticed it.

Turning and walking backwards, panicked, she screamed.

The walkers hands grasped at her shoulders, and Andrea took her knife, still screaming, and stabbed it in the abdomen. This did nothing to stop it from coming after her.

The others were running to her aid as fast as they could. Andrea had wandered off quite far in her exhaustion.

Still struggling with the large corpse, she flew backwards, tripping over a log.

It stalked after her, and she kicked at it's upper body, screaming pathetically for help.

As the others got closer, two pairs of hooves got there faster, carrying a bat wielding Maggie Greene.

She waisted no time in taking out the awful smelling being, smashing its face with the end of her bat. It fell to the ground, she halted the horse, and the rest of the group just reached them.

"Lori? Lori Grimes?" Maggie questioned the blonde, whose eyes were still wide.

Maggie put her bat in a holster, and steadied her horse.

"I'm Lori," actual Lori said. The girl on the horse reverted her eyes to her, watching everyone else cautiously at the corner of her eye.

"Rick sent me. You've got to come now!"

"What?"

"There's been an accident. Carl's been shot. He's still alive but you've got to come now"

Everyone faltered in their tracks. Lori, Daryl, Carol and Glenn.

First, Sophia goes missing; the youngest. Then Carl gets shot; the next one up. It was like some sick game. And Daryl knew who would be next if someone was playing a sick joke somewhere that went from youngest up. _But that's ridiculous,_ he thought. _Something not worth thinking about._

Maggie noticed Lori falter. "Rick needs you just come!" she ordered.

Carl's mother quickly slipped off her backpack, leaving it on the forest floor and walking quickly towards the horse the other brunette sat upon.

Daryl wasn't having it. "Whoa, whoa, whoa! We don't now this girl!" he yelled after Lori, who looked over her shoulder at him. "You can't get on that horse!"

Lori was panicked, she didn't know what to do. She faltered again besides the horse.

"Daryl?" Maggie retorted, suddenly remembering what the redhead had told her back at the farm.

"Yeah!" Daryl said, a warning tone in his voice that said _'don't come any further'._

"Ariel, says it's okay."

With those words, Daryl knew, Marley was behind it.

She was far away, in an unknown place to him, and yet she was still trying to calm him down, and tell him what to do.

Not only did Daryl know Marley, but Marley knew Daryl, much better than he thought.

She knew how he would react, and she knew what to do.

Daryl nodded to Lori, Marley's message calming him slightly.

Lori hopped on behind the girl, looping her arms around the girl's waist.

"Rick said you had others on the highway, that big traffic snarl?" Maggie listed, more towards Glenn who replied a small, "Uh-huh."

"Backtrack to Fairburn Road. Two miles down is our farm. You'll see the mailbox. The names Greene."

Maggie yelped, "Hiyah!" and the horse bolted off into the forest.

She left everyone slightly curious and dazed. She had come in so wildly, and left without disappointment.

Daryl still held the words in his head.

_"Ariel, says it's okay."_

She could have said 'Marley' just as easily, but she knew that wouldn't convince him. Ariel had a paragraph worth of meaning to both of them. It seemed that they were both concerned about each other despite being apart.

She was doing something she hadn't done in a very long time... if she ever had.

Marley Van Allan was surprising Daryl Dixon.

His thoughts were cut short, as a loud wheezing sound came from his left.

Exasperated, he shot the walker in the head with a bolt.

"Shut up!"


	32. endotracheal incubator

**_Marley's P.O.V:_ **

The whole ride there was completely awkward and filled to the brim with tension.

Each of us spilled over with guilt. Shane, for letting Carl come with us. Me, for not seeing Otis in time to maybe push Carl out of the way and maybe even take the bullet myself. Otis, obviously, for shooting Carl.

I was actually used to silence. But it was this type of silence that I loathed and tried to avoid with all my will. It was like when you're sitting in a waiting room, and there was a baby crying next you, and you fight every urge not to turn to the parent and demand they shut their baby's tiny, but noisy mouth.

I realise that wasn't exactly silence itself, but it held the same feeling.

It was like I wanted to tell the silence to shut up! Or at least punch it in the face so that it would once learn its place.

It wasn't anything like the long Dixon brother road-trips. With chewy squirrel (and occasionally a snake). Merle sitting on the opposite side of the fire to me and Daryl, telling me cringe-worthy stories about his ex-cell mates. Every story would end up either sounding like complete bullshit, or Merle would twist them in a way only his mind could. Whilst Daryl sat as far away from me as he could, without being out of sight.

Those days, I was allowed to not worry about a thing. Only once in a while would I be given a pinch of responsibility, which even at that time, seemed a bit much.

Now I had to worry about respirators that could hopefully save a little boy's life.

Oh, how times had changed.

Somehow I had this feeling that I would turn to my left and Daryl would be there. One his last cigarettes delicately hanging from his lips, and always resting his elbow on the windowsill, to which the window was open. The short, and greasy hair would somehow move in the wind, but I didn't know how since he never washed it and the Georgian heat didn't help.

The truck we were sitting in was eerily similar to Daryl's uncle's truck. But this was a sky blue colour, whilst the former one held a dirty mustard colour.

Daryl would steal glances at me, and although he was quite observant, I don't think he noticed that In noticed. Most of the time it would make me uncomfortable since I had spent years of my pathetic life with weird men stealing more than a glance and trying to cop a feel. The women, however, were more respectable than them, though. Daryl would do it so often, I eventually didn't care.

I would turn to my right and I would be at my window, with my ugly pillow, eyelids drooping since the boys often woke me up at the crack of dawn.

I adored those car rides. Those were the type of silences I would like.

Unfortunately, I did turn to my left and saw the man that shot Carl. My best friend. My dear young sir.

It was funny that the best friend that I make in this mess was a 12-year-old boy.

I turned to my right and saw Shane. Who seemed to be Carl's best friend. Shane always had this weird explosive vibe to him. Push the wrong button and... Boom! He appeared like a shark who would taunt his prey rather than eating it, just to seem more dominant. Like he had a constant need to be Alpha, but someone who would never admit it just to be humble.

As we pulled up to the high school, it was quite dark out, which already made me feel worried that we were already gone too long.

Otis stopped the truck, wiggling the gear stick as we all sat there for a split second to breathe. But right now there was no time to breathe.

The three of us slid out rather noisily, the springs in the chairs squeaking.

On the bed of the vehicle, I picked up my two guns, opting to put them in the waistband of my jeans, and the black hiker bag's peeling straps on my shoulders.

Sneaking was something I was good at. Placing the balls of your feet in the right positions. From sessions of watching Daryl hunt, I picked up a few things.

I followed Shane, crouched down, towards the high school. What came with it was a dull roar of walker moans. It was the only thing filling my ears.

The three of us knelt against a cop car. Shane and Otis on each side of me, holding their guns upwards.

Shane took a quick look over the height of the car and saw the masses. I didn't see them, but I could tell by the way he quickly ducked back down and looked at us exasperated. I knew from his face that we were in deep trouble.

+

It didn't take long for the sky to turn a dark navy colour. By then, we had mistakingly but thankfully found a box of flares in the back of the cop car.

We all carefully got ready to throw them over our heads to distract the dead. Otis and I held one, whilst Shane held two. We were waiting for the opportune moment to throw them. Shane would signal for when we needed to throw them. I looked down to the bright red stick in my hand. I had never used a flare before, but I remember watching Lost and how they ignited it. So, I was fine.

"Hey," Shane whispered. He tiptoed a bit closer to me, kneeling behind another car. "Just... Marl, stick by me. Promise?"

"I don't need protecting."

"This isn't about protection it's about being smart, okay?" he scolded. I looked to his face, and I realised it was much closer to mine than I wanted it to be. It caught me off guard and the words I was about to say were sucked back into my throat. I could always tell how people felt by their faces, but with Shane at this moment, I caught up on nothing.

"Promise me, Marley."

I gulped inwards. Shane suddenly made me nervous. An emotion I really didn't need at that moment.

"Carl... and Daryl would never forgive me if anything happened to you under my watch."

_Why was he saying this to me? Did he think I was stupid enough to wander off into a field of walkers?_

"Don't make me regret letting you have those guns. Did you want to prove yourself, right? Prove Daryl and everyone else?"

All I could do was a nod, in return. There was only one other person who made me feel this way when they talked to me. That certain tone he used. Talked down to me, like I was a child. Like I was stupid. Not like Carl, who viewed me as equal. Or Glenn, who talked to me with the most respect anyone had given me. Rick, who talked to me like I could do something good every day.

Daryl... who just confused me. But he talked to me better than this.

There was only one other person who talked to me like the way Shane just did.

And that person was dead.

As Shane whispered, "Now!" I blindly threw it over my head. I reach into my waistband and pulled out one of my guns and held it tightly in my hands.

I had a tight feeling in my chest and the knocking in my head got louder.

I didn't have time for it.

Looking over to the dark haired man, he waved me over towards him and I complied.

Once we saw that there were no walkers facing us, both Shane and I ran over to the FEMA shelter. We luckily made it there without trouble. Otis wasn't far behind us, much slower due to his larger self.

I opened the door quickly, rushing in and holding it open for the two men. I held my hand over my racing heart, taking a moment to catch my breath. It was evident to me then that I was doing something incredibly stupid, on my part.

The two men walked past me into the dark room, going to look for the supplies. I made my breathing normal and followed them. I found that they were already shifting through the shelves and discussing what they needed.

"Marley, give us a hand and get looking," Shane scolded. His harsh tone shocked me and made me jump. I quickly walked over to Shane as he held a torch to the shelves. He took down some cans, keeping the torch between his teeth. He turned to me causing the flashlight to blind me. I put my hand to my eyes. Shane took the light in his hand but kept it pointing at my face. "Get looking for that respirator, and get anything else on the way."

He roughly turned me around, zipping open my bag and putting the heavy canisters in. After he did that, I proceeded to look through the shelves, putting anything that looked the slightest bit useful in my bag.

"Where's the list?" Otis asked from beside me. In the small space, we were all kind of squished together in the dark.

"Oh, yeah," I realised, reaching into my jeans pocket and handing the list to Otis.

He muttered a small thanks then I continued collecting what I could. The bag was getting heavier with all of the items. We may not have even needed any of the things I was collecting, but maybe was something I couldn't think about right then.

Shane stepped to the row of shelves I was searching. This caused me to be stuck between Otis and him.

Otis gasped beside me, and I looked to my side to see him reach up to one of the higher shelves. I couldn't reach them myself. I crouched back down beside me and looked closely at what was in his hand. It was a respirator.

"Endotracheal incubator, baby, for my new respirator."

I smiled at his rejoicement and we all stood up so we could get out of there and go home.

Again being between the two men, and the gun in my hands, they both pointing their torches towards the door. Shane took the handle and quickly opened the door.

Maybe a bit too quickly, because as I looked out and saw the walking corpses turn to us as the flares we had used dulled their brightness behind them. Dinner was served for them. And we were their dinner.

Although the walkers were in our pursuit, Shane led us out of the shelter towards the high school, and away from our enemies. Surviving was new to me. But so far, i seemed to be doing quite well.

We ran as fast as we could down the side of a wall which led to some stairs. The bag of my back was bouncing against my back, the canisters hitting my spine.

All while echoes of snarls came from behind me. I could tell that the three of us were in full panic mode.

Shane was leading me and Otis, taking on the leader role.

He almost got bitten by a walker, but I managed to get there in time and hit it in the face with the butt of my gun. I screamed deeply as I did it. I didn't fully comprehend that I had actually taken one down before Shane was tugging me in the other direction.

I surprised myself with how fast I was running. I was almost taking over Shane. I remembered what had made me run fast earlier. That Carl had been shot. But right then it had been the rush of adrenaline and danger. I only ever got those type of feeling when i felt like someone was following me home. Or when i nearly got hit by a car that one time.

We sprinted down another alley, but on the other end was another time wave of them. They seemed to be emerging from every direction. I didn't think that you could this many of them in one place. Why hadn't they wandered away from the high school in search of food. They were drifters, whilst the ones like we saw on the highway seemed to be... roamers. Roamers and Drifters.

"In here!" Shane ordered us, darting to the entrance of the high school.

I scurried after him, giving a quick look over my shoulder to see that Otis was still there, and he was. Breathing heavily. Like me and Shane but a lot more excessive.

Shane tried to open the door, but it wouldn't budge. He tried going another way, but we were surrounded.

Without giving any warning to Otis and i, he took out his shotgun and shot the glass apart, shattering it. I had to shield my face with my arms to keep any shards from going in my eyes.

I didn't hesitate after the glass cleared and bolted into the entrance. Tripping on the lip of the door, i crawled to the wall and got myself to my feet and turned to see Shane and Otis closing the metal divider. They struggled for a moment, but they got it closed in time for all of the dead to reach it and starting reaching in, grasping the air for their food.

All of three of us stood against the wall, catching our breath as we watched dead eyes glare at us.

I grabbed Shane's arm to the side of me and wrapped my own around his muscle. I leaned into him.

Whilst the boys looked at the walkers before us, I stared at the only thing keeping those doors closed.

A _single_ bolt.


	33. what did you do?

**_Third Person P.O.V:_ **

How could she have known? How could she have seen it coming? You look back on things like this and you stare at your own stupidity because you knew then, looking back at the past, everything. She didn't know. And then, when she knew, didn't feel stupid. She felt angry.

She felt angry that not only was she, in the end wrong, but her goals would be a mistake. Something she should never have thought about.

If she had never thought about it, maybe people would have lived.

Whilst she thought selfishly that she could evolve, it would only put other people at risk.

Looking at herself, she grimaced at the constellation of cuts that stretched from her eyebrow down to her chin.

A trail of wounds that stung whenever she went near them.

She looked down to her arms as she stood naked in the bathroom.

Bruises were pressed into her skin, finger marks clearly evident. Looked to have the near force of a vice. Scratches followed them, indented marks and splotches of both her blood and someone else's.

She turned her hands over, to look at her nails which were coated with dried blood that clotted and the edges.

Gripping the basin of the sink, she pressed her forehead to the cold mirror. She breathed out deeply and hit her head against the mirror. Her head was already hurting and she just made it more painful.

Again, she hit her head.

She couldn't believe what she had done.

She wanted to scream, but the shower water fall wouldn't be loud enough to drown the sound. Her scream would be heard by Carl and it would wake him up.

She couldn't do that to him.

She needed a release.

She looked into her stormy eyes, her bottom lip wobbling.

She hadn't let herself cry for days.

She couldnt harm herself without it being more evident to everyone else that something was wrong.

She started breathing in and out quickly.

She was fighting for breath, and each one was a punch her injured side, which she gripped shakingly.

She felt like the floor was unstable, trapped in her own head while floating somewhere outside, looking back at herself, wondering, what she was doing.

She felt like her heart was locked in a cage, beating as hard as it could to break free. Like a boxing match was taking place inside her chest.

She gripped the sink so hard she thought her nails were going to unhinge.

Quickly, she turned on the shower and flopped into the bottom of the tub. Her head protested at the sudden movement.

She lay there waiting for a few moments as the sound of water churning water came closer. It didn't seem to come soon enough. She still lay there, floating in and out of her own reality.

Finally, the water came. It was freezing and caused her to intake a mouth full if it as she was shocked.

She turned on her side so it wasn't directly falling on her bare stomach.

Even as the water got hotter, she still hugged herself and her ribs ached a dull awful pain as she shook..

Her long-awaited tears mixed with the water. Streaming down her dirty cheeks. too long awaited. too long.

She thought about what she had done.

What Shane made her do, but she did anyway.

She could have stopped him, but all she thought at the time was that Carl would be safe.

But she never wanted to do that. What Shane had made her do.

What had she done?

+

"Lori did you... I mean it was legendary. Did you ever hear about the time Shane stoles Kingsley's car?"

"Yeah."

"The principal's car right out of the teacher's lot in the middle of the school day. Shane steps out of lunch and makes a beeline the Kingsley's Hyundai... Wires the ignition, peels out, drives down Dylan Drive to that chicken farm out there. You've heard this before, right? So he pulls out into one of the big holding pens. Kinglsey, he waxed that thing every month; had the auto shop vacuum it out every week. Shane, he parks it in this huge pen with a couple of hundred Rhode island reds. He busts open bags of seed in the back seat, rolls down all the windows, and then starts sprinting back to school. Its three miles away easy. He's back in time to finish his sandwich before the bell. And then the bell rings. Shane gets up and when he runs into Kingsley in the hallway he looks out the window and says, 'Principal Kinglsey, your coup's gone.' Coup, like chicken coop."

"I get it."

"Of course, you do. You've heard this story 1,000 times. What you said before, you're right. Shane's gonna' make it back with what the doctor needs. He'll make it back."

"Hershel said you need to eat."

"And... And Marley's with him. I don't know any story for her, but... She had no reason to go out there, but she did."

"Please, for me. You've got to keep your strength up."

"We don't know anything about her, what if she dies out there?"

"No, I do. She has looked after Carl like he was her little brother. I know... Definitely, that Marley would do anything for him. She's not going to die... She's too stubborn. But, rick, please, you need to eat."

"Carl's gonna' be all right?"

"Yes, Marley and Shane would never let anything happen to him."

+

Shane held her shoulders as she turned her back to the outside. Her breaths were shaky as she wobbled in his grasp.

She had to jump. And she had to do it quickly as the walkers were getting closer to Shane's back. The growls echoed throughout the gym.

Shane could see that strands of her sanity were slowly unravelling as this trip became longer. She was so scared, and it was clearly evident in her face at all times.

"Ready?" He asked. She nodded unsurely, but then her face turned to over his shoulder and gasped.

A walker began to grasp at Shane, its dirty nails clawing at his shirt.

He lost grip of the girl and she lost grip of his elbows.

Her figure descended from his view as she fell.

Shane watched as she tried to grasp for the wall, and her head came into contact with the brick. Shane heard evident scraping sounds and a thud as her limp and unconscious body crumbled to the ground.

She lay on her side, crimson liquid beginning to emerge from her scalp. Something that had happened to her before.

Shane only heard a desperate yelps as she fell.

He quickly shuffled out of the window, all whilst trying to get the walker away from himself.

He held onto the window sill. The dead corpse still tried to take a bite at him. Shane punched it repeatedly, before reaching into his holster and taking his gun.

As he shot at it, the walker let go and therefore Shane fell just like Marley had done.

His arms waved in the air and he landed on his ankle, sending a snap sound through the air.

He groaned in pain, holding his breathe for a moment to deal with the aching pain that shot through his foot.

He crawled over to Marley's limp body, carefully turning her onto her back and taking her face into his large hands.

"Hey. Hey, Marls we need to go now, so please wake up."

He gently patted her face and sure enough her eyes started to flutter open.

He took the pads of his fingers and traced away the blood from her grazes as she came about to her senses.

"Wh- what happened?" She said confusedly. Her eyesight was blurry as she squinted at the figure above her.

She tried to get up, but her ribs protested at the sudden movement.

"You gotta be careful," Shane said in a stern but caring voice.

He held one of his hands over her left ribs as he helped her get up.

She didn't have the best balance, and Shane was now limping from his injured ankle.

"What happened, Shane?"

"You fell, I screwed up my ankle, now we gotta go."

They both picked up their bags from the floor and hooked each others arms around each other.

All hateful feelings towards Shane flew out the window as the need for survival mixed with a rush of adrenaline accelerated Marley on her quest to save Carl.

Her young sir was back in her head, and that was all she needed to get going. Despite her vision being blurry and it felt like someone had stabbed her in the temple. That mixed with the neat incapability to breathe.

They both stopped stumbling down the alley as they heard gunshots come from the opposite direction.

They looked at each other quickly and followed the sounds.

Both injured, but both determined.

+

Glenn and T-Dog stepped out of the Cherokee and into the dark night.

Glenn, unsure, held the shotgun in his hands, walking up to the porch next to shivering T-Dog.

He was excited to see that zorro girl that he saw earlier. As well as discovering her name. All he knew was her last name; Greene. He reminisced how she came in on her chestnut horse like a leaf on the wind. Swooping up Lori and saying words that could somehow shut stubborn Daryl up.

He did wonder what, 'Ariel says it's okay,' meant. He was going to ask Marley what it did mean, as she was surely in the house he was approaching.

Light overcast his face, and he discovered the spots of blood that trailed up the stairs to the front door. He stopped in his tracks, analysing them. He felt slightly sick.

"So do we ring the bell?" he nervously suggested, turning to look at the paling T-Dog. "I mean it looks like people live here."

"We're past this kind of stuff, aren't we?" T-Dog wheezed in response, taking the lead and clambering up the stairs. The pain in his arm made him considerably more open to being rude. "Having to be considerate."

Their feet stopped as a voice spoke up. "Did you close the gate up the road when you drove in?"

Glenn spotted the girl curled up in a rocking chair and deciphered that it was the zorro girl.

"Uh, hi." he stuttered. "Yes, we closed it. Did the latch and everything."

The girl uncurled herself and looked at them both as she placed her elbows on her knees.

"Hello. Nice to see you again." Glenn spoke with more confidence as he bowed his head in respect, and also that he had a gentleman streak inside of him. "We met before briefly."

T-Dog rolled his eyes at Glenn's teen-like attempt at getting on the girl's good side and spoke up, impatiently. "Look, we came to help. There anything we can do?"

He winced at the end of his sentence, and an approaching Maggie looked cautiously at his bandaged forearm.

"It's not a bite," he assured. "I cut myself pretty bad, though."

Maggie sighed at the number of injuries the group was bringing to her doorstep. "We'll have it looked at. I'll tell them you're here."

Glenn hurriedly opened up his bag and took out the pills Daryl had previously given him. Maggie accepted them graciously and led them both inside, offering to make them something to eat.

+

Shane guided the dizzy girl beside a brick wall, staying quiet as possible.

Her vision shifted in and out of blurriness, and she wasn't sure she could go on any longer without collapsing.

Both of them held their guns carefully in their hands, taking every step cautiously towards the front of the high school. Shane hissed with each step and Marley wheezed with every intake of breath.

Around one corner, a walker strolled eagerly towards them and Shane took his arm away from Marley to shoot it down. His gunshot pierced the girl's ears and she winced at the harsh sound.

More walkers started approaching from different angles. Some from their front and some from their left. Shane and Marley embraced each other again and continued stumbling. Both appearing like broken rag dolls.

The adrenaline rush their injuries gave them earlier had worn off, and now they were running on empty.

Marley pointed her gun at one of the walkers and blindly fired. It went straight through its neck, squirting a brown liquid onto its body and to the floor. She fired again, hitting the one next to it in the middle of its forehead and sending it to the ground. The gun which held seven rounds only had two bullets left, and she had the lost the other gun whilst she was running for her life. She aimed for the walker she had shot in the neck again and shot again. This time, it got hit in the shoulder. Every time she tried to shoot, her head ached and her vision turned double. The slight recoil would shudder through her ribs and she tried everything in her power to not cry out in pain.

Her and Shane lay against the wire fence, both of them with only one bullet left. The fence on their backs caved in as the corpses grasped through it. Snarls and heavy human breaths were all that they could hear.

It seemed that their hope was slowly descending into a dark hole called hell. Marley was sure that she was going there if she believed in the concept of heaven or hell. All that they had worked towards, all that _she_ had worked towards... was being tested then and there. Was it all worth it, to just die there and not even fulfill the mission of saving someone she held so close to her heart?

Shane and Marley stood beside each other, wobbling on their feet, ready for anything. A 7-inch height difference between them, but the same amount of determination.

They lifted up their guns, walkers being two-to-one between them both.

Just then, a gunshot rang through the air when neither of them had shot a bullet. The walker tumbled to the ground and revealed a much awaited Otis, holding up his rifle.

Both Marley and Shane gaped at him in surprise as they had both nearly forgotten about him. He shot another one expertly.

Marley took down the one that nearly grasped her neck and Shane took down the other.

Shane looked over to the shorter girl and checked her over, making sure that she could walk by herself. His ankle was in sever pain and he noted that speed was the best option at that point.

In his brain, he was unknowingly calculating who would be most likely to survive the situation. At least one of them needed to get out alive and get back to the farm.

Otis took the extra bag from Shane's shoulders, putting it on his own.

"Man, I thought I'd lost you," he gasped, becoming more tired due to the constant limping. Even, though, speed was important to him, he held Marley close to him. He had a sense in him that didn't want Otis to touch her. The dominant streak coming out of him.

"That was my last rifle round," Otis admitted, taking heavy breaths that mirrored Marley's.

"Mine too."

"Mine too," Marley spoke up. She leant into Shane, slowly losing herself as the minutes went on and she used up her energy.

The team of three, still determined as ever, kept going forwards.

+

Patricia had offered to stitch up T-Dogs arm, and as she gathered the supplies, the two men had some questions. They noticed that neither Shane or Marley were present at Carl's bedside. They were considered close to him, so it was quite strange to not see them leaning over Carl in sorrow just like his parents.

"Uh," Glenn started, looking at Maggie. He was happy to have learned her name. "Where's Shane and Marley. Marley's the short redhead and Shane's..."

"Yeah, I know," Maggie stopped him. They were in the kitchen and she was making them something to drink. "They went to get medical supplies for that boy in there, with Otis."

"Oh..."

T-Dog furrowed his eyebrows. "Marley? The bony nerd went on an _actual_ supply run, _with Shane_?"

"Bony nerd?" Maggie chuckled.

"Well, I'll be damned she's actually doing something." Glenn scowled at T-Dogs remark, but he put his good arm up in defense. "Nah, I'm proud."

T-Dog walked into the living room to drink his beverage whilst Maggie and Glenn remained in the kitchen.

"Bony nerd?" Maggie repeated.

"She just... Uh? Never went on supply runs and stuff."

"So _that's_ who she turned into," Maggie whispered to herself as she followed T-Dog into the living room.

Glenn was confused as to what she meant.

This new information to him made him even more worried for the girl he liked. But that stint in the CDC made him so angry towards her. He felt betrayed, when really, all she did was get drunk.

He did think to himself, 'she doesn't remember'.

She had clearly stated that she didn't know why he was mad at her, so he couldn't really hold it against her.

But now he had seen the zoro horse girl and everything seemed to have changed. Something about Maggie had intrigued him in a way that Marley had done previously but to a more serious extent. Marley was like a high school crush and Maggie was the one you see from across a room and something about her turns your inner compass towards her.

Glenn followed Maggie into the living room. Holding the cup in his hands.

+

Rick and Lori held onto each other. Their eyes trained on the scalpel hovering over their sons bruised abdomen.

They were ordered to step out, but a sudden and hopefully noise made them leave the room even quicker as they heard the low rumble of an engine.

Otis's truck.

Rick, Lori, Glenn, Hershel, Maggie and T-Dog all stepped out into the night and came to see Shane hurriedly getting out and taking two bags with him.

A small figure also approached, the descending group with her own bag in her small arms. Her red hair, backlit by the cars blaring headlights, coloured the black night.

"Carl?" They both wheezed in unison and exhaustion. Both held their eyes wide and their mouths gaped open taking in sharp breaths.

"There's still a chance," rick comforted them both.

Shane handed a bag to Hershel and a bag to Glenn. Marley also gave her bag to an eyeful Glenn. He watched her cautiously as she avoided everyone's gaze like a scolded dog.

"Otis?" Hershel enquired, noticing that his old friend was nowhere to be seen.

Neither Shane or Marley answered, which was a whole answer in itself.

Hershel ordered noone to tell the now widow waiting inside, and he took Glenn with him as he went back inside to operate on the little boy.

Rick tightly embraced his partner, who still held a guarded and scared look behind his eyes.

"They kept blocking us at every turn," Shane started to explain, looking over to Marley who started to slowly approach the house in order to get away. She held her arms around herself as she shivered in the slightly chilled air.

"We had nothing left. We were down to 10 rounds. The he said -- he said he'd cover us both and that we should keep going. So that's what we did." Shane whimpered and kept looking to the girl who had now stopped in her tracks and had turned to look straight back at him.

"We kept going... But I--" he took a sharp intake of breath. "I looked back... And he." Shane shook his head and looked near close to tears by the end of his story.

Of course, Marley knew the truth. About what they had done, but she didn't fully comprehend. That what she had done was basically murder.

She retreated into the household, leaving the group of people outside and into the warmth. The place was a lot more comforting than what she had seen that night.

Glenn rounded a corner and saw the 20-year-old starting to sit down on the sofa. When she fully did, he slowly approached the one opposite her.

As he sat down, she didn't seem the have noticed him.

"Marley?" He spoke out. He was her twitch at the mention of her name, but she didn't look to have any response conjuring up inside her.

"Marley, I forgive you," he said carefully.

She looked up from the floor and into his eyes. He had forgiven her and that was making her quite happy. The ghost of a smile played on her lips only for a moment before disappearing.

"Its okay," Glenn assured, eyeing the scratches that were poking out from her sleeves.

"No... Its not," she said quietly back.

Glenn took a moment to think of what to say next.

"What happened?"

_The three soldiers were moving at a slow pace towards where their getaway car was parked._

_They all stated how many rounds they had. With Marley having none. She focused on staying upright, and balanced. At times, she would slowly veer left for a moment before regaining her balance and keeping more focused._

_Walkers trailed after them in immense numbers. It was nothing compared to the he'd they witnessed on the highway. This was full of roamers, not drifters._

_These walkers saw their food and were adamant to feed._

_Shane and Otis repeatedly shot at them, using up their limited bullets time and time again. It was useless, they weren't making a dent._

_Shane was limping, both Otis and Marley could hardly breathe and an overall sense of hopelessness washed over them._

_Both Otis and Shane were down to their last. They slowed up their pace and looked at each other._

_Marley, who was in front, stopped and turned to look at them both._

_"I'm sorry," Shane said._

_Otis lifted an eyebrow at this but before he knew it, a bullet flew through his shin and he collapelsed to the floor._

_Shane had shot him._

_At this point, it was survival of the fittest._

_Shane grabbed the bag from Otis and attempted to pull it off of him._

_Marley stood glued to her spot as she witnessed something similar to the behaviour of wild animals._

_A mix of emotions spread through her veins and at that moment found her mind making irrational decisions._

_Otis pulled Shane to the ground and Marley sprinted into action._

_She grabbed a hold of the straps and started pulling herself, but then Otis turned against her, naturally and clawed at her arms._

_She got angry and screamed in his face as his nails scraped her skin and his hands tightly grasped her arms, squeezing the bones in her wrists._

_Shane kicked at Otis yelling him to give the bag to him._

_It was a mess of limbs and screams of pain as Otis declared he was going to kill them both._

_Otis let go of Marley who still kept a good hold of the bags straps. Her ribs were now a scrambled ball of a different kind of pain._

_Otis grasped Shane's hair and pulled out a chunk, before trying the aim and fire at his head but failing._

_Marley writhed the gun from Otis' fingers and Shane was then able to take the bag away from him._

_Shane and Marley; victors. Held onto each other, occasionally looking back at the screaming peace of bait that still reached out to them._

_All the pain that the two of them had endured that night didn't amount to how much Otis was experiencing in that moment._

_Shane Walsh and Marley Van Allan had left Otis for dead. Essentially murdered the man._

_**That's** what she had done_

****  
  



	34. liar

**_Marley's P.O.V:_ **

I was clean.

On the outside... but definitely not inside of me. Inside of my head.

Last night, I helped Shane murder a man. I created a widow. That widow was sitting inside that house that we had been graciously given refuge in.

I couldn't stay in there any longer. Not with Patricia.

I couldn't stand to think about what I had done. So I stayed out of the woman's way. Out of her sight.

I remember Otis' nails scraping my skin, and the evidence of that was still with me. Clearly displayed on my inconveniently pale forearms. I remember everything that happened despite my head being mid-concussion during the unfold of events. I remember his screams becoming muffled as the walkers tore his skin apart. I remember me screaming in his face as Shane and I turned on him and kicked him to the ground. I remember his hands gripping me so tight, that it reminded of a grip I knew all too well. A grip no one should experience.

Hershel, after looking at my injuries, only ordered me to take it easy. My ribs were bruised, I had a concussion, and multiple bruises and grazes. The only real essential thing I would have to do was hold a pillow to my chest when I coughed.

So, as the sun ascended into the sky, I watched from the porch chair as people gathered rocks for Otis' funeral. The funeral that I would have to attend, whilst trying not to break down in front of everyone.

I mean... Otis didn't really mean anything to me. It was the fact that he died by my hand that made me feel somewhat unstable, or susceptible to getting hurt. That something was around every corner waiting to pounce on me. Like Otis' ghost was hanging over me.

I once heard that if you are a killer, the people you have taken from this world haunts you forever. That they are always at the back of your mind, even when you are at your happiest, they are still there, like a bug clinging to your skin, crawling on it and setting you on the edge of doing something even more dangerous than killing an innocent person.

Going by how I felt, that was true.

I was scared of turning into the person I used to be. What the guilt of my parent's death did to me, was happening at that moment.

The cold morning air didn't help either.

I had to reuse my clothes from yesterday because no one's clothes would fit me. So I was sitting in my blood covered Winchester-shirt, dark ripped jeans, and torn apart sneakers.

I washed yesterday, and yet, I was sitting in filth.

I was grabbed from my own thoughts as a low rumble reached my ears. A noise I knew to be Merel's motorcycle.

I stood from my seat, holding my side to make it easier.

The people collected rocks also held their gaze on the slow emerging vehicles. First you saw the roof of the RV, then the green honda. In front, there was Daryl, his short brown hair flying in the wind.

He would not be happy to hear what I had been up to. If he even believed me. But think I had a pretty convincing case, due to me having pretty unavoidable cuts across one-half of my face. They stung and started to scab over. I also had a small black eye forming, and it made the bags on my eyes even bigger... just on one side.

The other's stopped their gazing and continued piling up rocks, as a means to be a decent grave.

I descended the stairs, going down as slowly as I could. My injuries would soon annoy me as I would be told I couldn't go out and look for the lost little girl, Sophia.

T-Dog walked past me to tell Rick and Lori they were here, whilst they parked their vehicles in front of the house.

My eyes stayed set on Daryl as he climbed off his Motorcycle, keeping his head down, so he hadn't seen me yet. Kicking the stand upwards, he finally looked up, instantly looking to the house, then to me.

His eyes held a confused and shocked look. He put his hand up to shade his eyes, wanting to get a better look. He went to step towards me, before spotting something behind me and turning to his bike.

I looked to my right and found Rick, Lori, T-Dog, Hershel, and Patricia emerging from the house. I kept my gaze away from Patricia, as to not make my skin crawl anymore.

Rick still looking slightly pale. I learned he had three blood transfusions last night, which is both a brave and stupid thing to do.

Everyone was silent as we started forming a small congregation in front of the Greene household. I wanted someone to say something so that I wouldn't have to deal with any more awkward silences anymore.

Dale was the first to speak. "How is he?" the old man asked, referring to Carl.

"He'll pull through," Lori answered, nodding happily. "Thanks to Hershel and his people."

"Marley and Shane too," her husband finished, looking at me for a split second.

I looked towards my partner in crime as he looked to me. His newly shaved head shining under the sun, and Otis' clothes hanging on his shoulders. We both held a secret together. His gaze was more of warning and mine held more fear of being uncovered. I looked back to the group, tucking my hair behind my ear, blinking away the burning feeling behind my eyes that was left over from hitting my head.

"We'd have lost Carl if not for them."

I felt about a dozen eyes fall on me, as they did to Shane. Dale, Andrea, Carol... and Daryl.

Dale stepped towards Rick to embrace him. Carol to Lori. Andrea to T-Dog.

I looked towards Daryl to see if he would, but he didn't. He kept his gaze strong on my eyes.

"How'd it happen?" Dale asked.

"Hunting accident," Rick stated, in a raspy tired voice. "That's all-- just a stupid accident."

 _'No, I'm the stupid accident_ ,' I thought.

Hershel kindly asked all of us to attend the funeral in modesty, but he gave us a moment to catch up. I took this opportunity.

The hunter was kneeling over his bike... I never knew what he was doing with his bike or crossbow. Complicated stuff. Complicated man stuff. Daryl-man stuff.

_Where was I going with this?_

I carefully stepped towards him, and he saw me at the corner of his eye and straightened his back. He observed my face for a moment as he looked down to me and I looked up to him.

"Sit," he ordered softly, gesturing to the seat of his motorcycle.

"Why?-"

"Just," he said in a more stern manner, again tilting his head to the leather seat.

He stood patiently as I sat down and had to strain my neck even further to look at him.

In an unexpected twist, he took my chin between his thumb and index finger, tilting my head upwards even more and to the left. He was looking at my wounds.

My breath hitched at the sudden contact, that I really wasn't used to anymore. If somebody held my face this way, it was usually to threaten me, to put fear in my head. I had never been held this way. At least, I didn't remember if I had.

His face got closer to mine, and I turned my eyes away from his. I saw Dale spot what Daryl was doing, then reverting his eyes like he wanted to give us some privacy.

"What happened?" Daryl broke the silence turning my head to the right for a moment to see the other side, then back to the left.

"We... uh," he was making me nervous. He hadn't been this close to me, ever. This was something I would categorize as something Daryl would do. The hunter was acting quite strange at the moment. I stuttered to get my words out with his hand touching my face. "We were at a high school... to get stuff to op-operate on Carl. We had to, um, get out a window cause we were trapped inside and I fell. Hit my head. Got bruised ribs too and I had a concussion."

I looked up from the ground to his eyes. He looked like he didn't believe me. I was released of my nervousness as he let go of me.

"Hershel's checked me over," I stated, standing up from the seat. He didn't give me much room as he stood glued to his spot, and the bike behind me cause me to be pressed up to his chest.

Thankfully, he stepped back and allowed me to go around him.

"Anything on Sophia?" I asked lastly. He simply shook his head in response, still keeping his eyes on me, folding his arms over his chest. Turning and walking away, other people followed me.

I could feel his eyes burning into the back of my head as I approached the empty grave.

+

I watched nervously as Beth approached the grave to place a rock on the pile.

"Blessed be God," Hershel voiced. "Father of our Lord Jesus Christ."

Jimmy was the next to approach. I was hoping that I wouldn't have to do anything but stand away from Otis' grave, or I would break down. I stood to the left and slightly behind Daryl. It seemed he wanted to be extra close to me today. His stance was relaxed, but I still got a guarded vibe from him.

"Praise be to him, for the gift of our brother Otis."

I looked over to Patricia, who had tears streaming down her face. I was quite near to that myself. I held my hands together, cracking them multiple times. I couldn't look at her for more than five seconds before the images from the night before came flashing before my eyes.

All Otis wanted to do was help, but my instinct was to do what was necessary.

Blood... screams, and growls echoing through the air. I was hoping Shane was experiencing the same thing as I was so that I wasn't being abnormal. So the way I was feeling it was right.

I remembered that just before we found out how many bullets we had left, Shane offered to stay there and for us to take his bags. Otis refused to leave him there. I refused to leave Shane there.

"For his span of years, for his abundance of character. Otis, who gave his life to save a child's, now more than ever, our most precious asset."

I looked around the rest of the group, mostly to Shane. His eyes were trained on the ground like he was reminiscing the past events... just like I was doing.

"We thank you, God, for the peace he enjoys in your embrace. He died as he lived, in grace," Hershel finished.

My arms burned as I had a flash of memory. Otis was clawing at my skin again.

"Shane," Hershel suddenly pulled me out of my thoughts. "Will you speak for Otis?"

I hoped to hell that Shane would say something so that I wouldn't have to.

"I'm not good at it." Shane rasped. I was internally screaming for him to do it instead of me. "I'm sorry."

' _Yeah, you're sorry_ ,' I said to myself.

"You were one of the last ones with him. You shared his final moments." Patricia sobbed, looking to the man. "Please," she begged. "I need to hear. I need to know his death had meaning."

Shane looked taken back, and unwilling to do it, but he muttered a small, "Okay."

He was going to have to make up a story right there. With detail... a lot better than I would do.

"We were about done," he started. "Almost out of ammo we were down to pistols by then."

_'True.'_

"I was limping. It was bad. Ankle all swollen up."

_'True.'_

"Marley hit her head. She was worse than me. Both of us could hardly keep up."

_'True.'_

"'We've got to save the boy.'" he imitated Otis, it made me think back to how guilty that man felt throughout the night. "See, that's what he said."

Another flash of images spread through my mind, and I had to put my hands to my eyes.

_'It was a mess of limbs and screams of pain as Otis declared he was going to kill them both'_

It was like the walkers reaching out to me were still trying to claw out my eyes. I pulled them away from my face after a second and sniffed away as many overspilling emotions as I could.

"He gave me his backpack."

_'False.'_

"He shoved us ahead."

_'False.'_

"'Run,' he said. He said, 'I'll take the rear. I'll cover both of you.'"

_'False.'_

"And when we looked back..."

_'All the pain that the two of them had endured that night didn't amount to how much Otis was experiencing in that moment'_

I remembered looking back and seeing the floor painted red. The sight, the smell of iron and rotted skin mixed with the sounds of someone being devoured alive. That imaged was painted across my eyes.

I felt someone's gaze on me and looked right to see Daryl peeking over his shoulder.

I had a thought that he knew Shane was lying. After all, I did come back with a dead man's gun. Rick's python. It was safely tucked back intro Rick's gun holster after I gave it back to him this morning.

Shane limped forwards, slowly, approaching the wheelbarrow of rocks. "If not for Otis... I'd have never made it out alive." He picked up a rock, going to place it on the grave.

"Neither would have Marley. And that goes for Carl too. It was Otis."

_'True.'_

"He saved us." Shane turned his head to me. We both held a crazed stare into each other's eyes for a few seconds. Both our eyes wide, trying to conceal what was really happening inside of us. We were reliving the worst.

He then looked straight to Patricia and said to her face. "If any death ever had meaning, it was his."

She nodded in thanks. What she didn't know, was that the meaning for her husbands death was for us to get out and save Carl. But in a way she should never know.

Shane gently placed the rock on the pile. Something I wasn't going to do. If I wanted to pay any respect to him, I would have let him live.

+

I watched from afar as Maggie laid a map on the hood of a yellow car.

I had two bags on my shoulders, mine and Daryl's. I also had a tent in my arms, which was putting stress on my ribs as it was quite heavy, but I didn't put it down.

I felt like I deserved the pain.

Glenn was laying out some tentpoles in front of me.

I was glad he had forgiven me. I missed our long talks about comic books and tv shows. Something only me and him really had an interest in. We hadn't had a long conversation in so long, and I really hated that.

"Hey Glenn," I tried. Glenn glanced at me for a moment before continuing what he was doing.

"Hey Marlster," he greeted back. This rose a smile to my face. The nickname he said he would use before, but it never did stick. "How's your head?"

"Better, after I had some sleep."

"Good. Can't have that good mind of yours scrambled."

I chuckled, my ribs hurting, at his attempt to comfort me. He wasn't in fault, it was me. All I could think was, _'Oh, Glenn, if only you knew how scrambled my mind was.'_

It looked like he was trying to stay focused on the tentpoles, though.

I put my gaze back on the group of people by the car and saw Daryl walk around them and started heading my way. He brushed t, not seeming to notice me. I started following him, when he did finally notice, he stopped in his tracks.

"I have your stuff, where d'you want it?"

He didn't answer, just took the tent from my aching arms. "Follow me," he said quietly leading me to the right of the building, and far away from everyone else.

"Why so far away Daryl?" I huffed, getting exhausted carrying both mine and his stuff.

"Why not?"

"You're doing it again," I rolled my eyes, exasperated. He was answering my question, with a question. Again.

We reached a tree, and he took a look around. Up into the sky and to where everyone else was. "Here," he announced setting down the bag.

I put down the bags I was carrying myself. I wanted to tell him that we lost my tent back when we were getting rid of his truck, but I was too scared to.

"Was that all true, what Shane said?" he said suddenly, looking at me pointedly.

"Y-Yes," I stuttered, feeling like I was on a game show where the wrong answer would result in death.

He didn't look convinced.

"I know a liar when I see one... Marley." He stepped closer to me and I stepped back in a result. He still kept coming closer. "When I get back, you better not lie to my face again."

"I'm not, Daryl I-"

"You don' have to keep other people's secrets, Marl." He said louder, causing me to cower away from him.

He was obviously annoyed at me, and I hated when he was annoyed at me. I did want him to be mad, or angry, or annoyed at me. Ever. He has a lot to be against me about and he could easily spread shit that was true about me around the camp.

He knew the truth about what I had done, and he wasn't going to take a lie as an answer.

"Well, I can't find my tent," I asserted firmly, tilting my head to the side. "So you're gonna have to deal with the fact that I have to lie, for my own sanity," I whispered the last part, hoping there was no one else within earshot.

"Aw, hell no!"

"You're just gonna have to deal with it... like the good ole days." We were now getting closer to each other's faces. I could tell that he still wasn't used to me speaking more freely with him, and with more bravery than before.

"No! Share with chinaman, you two seem cuddled up together enough as it is," he accused loudly.

"Oh, just stop with blaming Glenn all the freaking time, and get your ass out there and bring back Sophia," I shouted, my face turning hot as I boiled over with anger. "Will you, please?"

He brushed past me, knocking my shoulder with his like a child. I almost fell over because his arm muscles were quite big.

I tried calming down my breathing. It was hard to catch my breath, but I did it eventually.

I didn't want to tell him the truth, and yet I did want to at the same time. Having a two-minute conversation with the man could send my head spinning in circles. I didn't know whether I liked that.

+

After setting up mine and Daryl's camp, I wanted to see Carl. I hadn't yet seen him since he was soaked in his own blood. I did help save him after all, and he was my best friend.

I walked through the halls, hoping to avoid Patricia. Luckily I did as I approached the door to the bedroom.

The door was slightly ajar, and I could hear hushed talking. I presumed one of them was Lori's.

Opening the door, two pairs of eyes hit me. One pair brown, the other blue, like his father's. Carl and Lori.

"Marley!" the little boy squealed excitedly, looking like he wanted to sprint out of bed and squeeze me tightly. I wished he could too.

"Hey there, my young sir." I approached his bed, my cheeks hurting as I couldn't help the painful grin that spread across my face. I leant down and gently put my arms around his head as a means to hug him. He grabbed one of my arms and tightly squeezed it in his tiny ones. I leant back to get a better look at his pale, sweaty face.

"He's been waiting to thank you," Lori remarked proudly, looking between me and her son.

"Thank you," he declared happily.

 _'If only he knew what I had to do_ ,' I thought, suddenly feeling a little more glum. But I kept my best happy face mask on.

"What happened to your face?" Carl asked curiously. I laughed as his childlike bluntness as he touched my right eye gently. The black eye was getting darker by the hour.

"I hit my head... well, the whole right side of my face" I said simply, smiling that he was okay but screaming inside at the memories to get away from my eyes.

"I'm just gonna make a list for the pharmacy," Lori announced, getting up from her chair. I gave a small wave to Carl, leaving him in the room as I followed Lori out of it.

"They're going to a pharmacy?" I inquired, walking beside the mothers. She nodded in response and an idea sprung to mind. "Can I ask you to write something on there for me?"

"Yeah sure." She got to a table in the middle of the living room where there was a pen and a notebook. She ripped out some paper and hovered the pen over it. "Go."

"Paroxetine, slash, Paxil," I uttered quietly

She scribbled the letters down, nodding as she went.

She didn't ask what they were for, and I was grateful that she respected my privacy. I wouldn't have to tell any more lies, just withhold the truth. I hoped they had some left at the pharmacy.

It seemed everyone these days... that saw the world as it was, like me, would need what I asked for.

 


	35. serrated edge

**_Marley's P.O.V:_ **

Lori stood straight from crouching over the table and smiled at me before making her way to the front door. I took much slower steps, being more cautious about the amount of doorways the place had. My hypervigilance coming out of me.

The sun hit my eyes as she opened the door, and I squinted to see where I was going.

I ended up walking into the doorframe but managed to recover.

She descended the front steps, passing a figure who was sitting there. Twisting his hat in his hands. He had one foot propped up higher than the other, and my image of him being a cowboy came back to me.

When Carl used to tell me about him, I always imagined John Wayne or Jeffrey Hunter.

Lori patted her husband's shoulder, and he reached up to her hand, then let her go just as fast as he grabbed it.

He hadn't noticed me behind him, I stood behind him awkwardly with my hands pressed together. I walked further towards the stairs, and he looked over his shoulder.

The man released a breath, looked back to the view in front of him.

I decided to sit next to him, as I had nothing better to do. My ribs sparked with pain, and I jerked sideways briefly, but I managed to get all the way down.

As I sat on his right, he looked towards me and I looked towards him.

"Has anyone asked you if you're okay?" he said quietly.

I paused for a moment, thinking about if anyone had actually asked me if I was okay.

The most popular question was "What happened" or anything along those lines.

"Not... really," I finally answered, looking down to my scarred palms.

"Are you okay?" he smiled.

I couldn't help but mirror his expression, but it fell, and I wanted to run away from everything.

I wanted to sprint and run out of breath. Find a river or a pond, and lay there until winter came. I wanted to be so cold.

I wanted to be the kind of cold where you couldn't feel the ends of your fingers, where it creates a numbness in your chest, and your skin tingled with a warm but freezing feeling.

I wanted the ice to cover my skin, creating a shell I needed.

I wanted my eyes to freeze up so that I wouldn't have to see... So I wouldn't have to look at anything, anymore.

Not anyone.

Not myself.

Not my arms, or my stomach, or my face, or my hands. Not anything. Not seeing anyone get lost or eaten or taken away from me, or the ones I would take.

I would give it up. Even give up the chance to see things like Carl, or the deer, or even the chance to see my brother again no matter how much he hated me.

"Marley?" I was pulled from my thoughts by Rick's grisly voice. "Are you okay?" all amusement in his voice had faded and was replaced by full concern.

I bit the insides if my cheeks. I thought I had said everything I just thought. Turned out hadn't.

"I'm fine," I lied flawlessly, placing a fake smile on my lips.

He looked unconvinced for a split second before his attention was switched to something over my shoulder. His eyes averted from mine and he spotted something.

He stood from his seat, tossing his hat onto my lap, which I somehow caught. I followed his gaze and found who he was looking at.

"Daryl," Rick yelled to the man.

The first thing I felt was confusion.

_Where had he been when I was putting up his tent?_

I thought he had already left.

Said man turned on his heel, hand hooked on the strap of his crossbow as he looked over his shoulder.

"You okay on your own?" Rick asked, walking a little closer to him.

I fiddled with the hat in my hands. I wanted to look away from Daryl, but I kept my eyes on him, making sure to keep a blank expression.

"I'm better on my own," he yelled back, turning to walk away from us. "Don't worry, I'll be back before dark." But Rick had more words to say.

I just wanted Daryl to ignore the man and walk away so I wouldn't have to think about him.

"Hey." he caught the hunter's attention again, who was growing more aggravated by the second. "We got a base. We can get this search properly organised now."

To be totally honest, Rick was saying things all of us already knew, even those who are not involved in all the important meetings that seem to only be for the strong and dictatorial.

"You got a point, or we just chatting?"

"My point is it lets you off the hook," Rick said out of the blue. "You don't owe us anything."

_Did he think Daryl would leave?_

Daryl glanced at me for a split second. I didn't know whether he wanted to leave... after all, his brother was not here. I hadn't really thought that he would, after all, where would he go? Being with a group was the smartest thing nowadays.

"My other plans fell through," he called back and walked away.

Rick took a few steps backwards before turning his gaze towards me, and I was holding his hat out towards him. He took it from me, placing it on his head. "He always like that?"

As much as I wanted to say yes, I didn't. "You just got to get used to him," I sighed, already bored with the day.

I knew that everyone would refuse to let me do anything today. Dale would probably tell me to take watch, despite his lack of knowledge that I know how to use a gun... to an extent.

I stood up, ready to walk away, but then another figure popped into my view. They walked down the stairs, with a rolled up map and a canteen.

Hershel, the man who always gave me double takes, and he did just that.

"We could give you more space," Rick suggested to the old man. I followed his footsteps as they took a close look at the barn, which was quite far away from the actual house. The sheriff put his hands on his hips. "Set up over by the barn."

I hoped that we wouldn't have to since I would already have to be far away from everyone else anyway.

"No, no need for that," Hershel answered, looking between Rick and I. "Better you stay close to the house."

I breathed a sigh of relief. No moving my already set up camp.

I felt like I was interrupting on adult business, but I stepped closer to both of them. I knew they knew I was there, but they still kept talking... and that made me feel a little older.

"I don't say this easily. We don't normally take in strangers."

I gulped at what he was saying, and I knew what he was implying. He was implying that this place was not a permanent, and we would have to be sent away as soon as possible.

I felt like an orphaned child... again.

"I can't have your people thinking this is permanent," he only confirmed what I was thinking. He was talking to Rick only, but he directed his eyes towards me after he said _"your people"_.

Since I was apparently _"Rick's people"_.

"Once you find this girl and your boy's fit for travel, I expect you'll move on." He looked between the man beside me and me.

"We need to be clear on that."

A sudden wave of anger washed over me.

Nether Hershel or his family understood what it was like out there. If he did, then he would not think twice about letting us stay.

"Yeah, it's pretty clear," I growled unexpectedly. I sent a glare towards him, looking at him through my eyebrows. My jaw and fists clenched, and I tilted my head sideways.

It was that furiousness that seeped through my skin at that moment.

Hershel walked away.

"He can't make us leave," I turned to Rick, seeing him looking at annoyed as me. "He doesn't understand wh-"

"I'll do what I can," he said, a lot more calm than me. "He's got to understand."

"He's not going to make me leave, let alone Carl, I won't let him."

"I know that." Rick touched my elbow, then proceeded to follow the veterinarian.

I would have followed him as well if I didn't feel so unstable around Hershel. That need to harm someone or something returning when thought about Hershel making us leave.

+

I was over by the RV, but took a moment to look over towards the well in the middle of one of the fields.

There was screaming coming from over there, and I watched a T-Dog had a hold of some pipe, and everyone had a grasp of him.

I considered helping them and I almost did, but something turning numb inside of me told me not to. Instead, I heard sniffles from inside the RV, and I opened the door.

Pausing for a moment just inside, the noises stopped.

I walked in further and looked to the left.

I found Carol at the seats, arms wrapped around herself. It looked like she had been crying. Clear marks lined her cheeks where a light dusting of dirt would be. That and her eyes were clearly red.

I felt like if I said anything, it would be something she had already heard. That she would just yell for me to leave or something despite Carol being the quiet type.

Instead of speaking, I walked over to where she was sitting and sat opposite her.

She looked at me confusedly as I didn't say a single word, and just crossed my arms and looked at her, then out the window.

She looked out the window with me.

"I know we'll find her," I whispered, putting my eyes on the disgusting walker that they had pulled out of the well.

From afar, I could see how horrid it was. Liquids squeezing out of multiple orifices, its eyes bulging from their sockets.

I reached out my hand towards hers and grabbed it. Squeezing it, I sighed.

"Sophia just doesn't get lost," I furrowed my eyebrows, watching the walker split in half. "Not her."

"Maybe," Carol sobbed quietly.

I didn't want Carol to lose hope. I could let myself all I could but the mother of that child had to believe she would find her. It was something that must always be. That she had to always hold on when everyone else couldn't.

"No," I said. "The world doesn't get to have her." I sounded adamant, but my voice wavered slightly.

I had been so selfish lately, thinking only of evolving. Yet, when Carl got shot, I evolved the most when I was doing something for him.

I stepped up and actually went out.

But I brought something back I didn't want.

Carol smiled through tears at me.

"It didn't get Carl, it didn't get me."

I looked towards the well again, seeing T-Dog beating the walker's head with a pipe. It brains splattering on the ground, mixing with the hay and dust. The rest of its body falling down the well.

"I won't let it."

The door to the RV burst open, and I turned in my seat abruptly. I jerked sideways like I did earlier due to the sudden movement.

It was Shane. Someone I hadn't talked to since last night.

"Carol, we're going to the highway," he said softly, noticing the tears on the woman's cheeks. He had one hand at the top of the door, opening the door wider as a gesture for her to come with him.

She got up from her seat, letting go of my hand, leaving it feeling cold.

When she went to step around Shane, he turned to her and told her to wait in the car.

Whilst she stepped out, Shane took off his cap, walking closer to where I was sitting after closing the door behind him.

I watched him carefully, thinking of all the possible things he could do to me. My hands splayed open by my sides, wiping the sweat off on my jeans.

I got up from my seat and stood opposite him. I grasped the edge of the counter, reaching slowly towards anything in case he tried anything.

Despite how kind Shane was, I had witnessed with my own eyes what he was capable of. He was manipulative of me... or at least I hoped.

It a was silent between us both, and I hated that. I knew exactly what he was going to talk about and I didn't really want even think about it, despite if being played on broken repeat in my head.

"You haven't told any-"

"No," I cut him off, stepping closer to him. But I still kept my hand reaching out behind myself.

"Good, they won't understand, they can't, not yet."

"Understand what?" I stepped even closer to him. "That you made me kill a man"

"I didn't make you kill a man." He started getting closer to me now and stayed glued to my spot. He was like a stone statue, intimidating and indestructible.

"You exploited the fact that I care for Carl," I hissed, my hands clenching and my brows knitting together.

Shane became louder than me,"Yes because we needed to save him."

It was silent between us for a moment, but I could tell that he was adamant to say a lot of words to me.

"You can't let it get to you," he sad softly reaching for my arm, which I hadn't noticed grasped onto something plastic.

"Isn't that what humans do," I whispered, despite everything inside of me telling me not to, I let him take whatever was in my hand.

"Not now, not anymore." He now had the unknown object.

We both took a breath. His made the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end.

"We did what we had to do," he whispered, slowly raising his empty hand towards my face. "We always must do what we have to do."

His fingertips hovered over my cuts and bruise that was laid across the side of my face.

It was nothing like Daryl had done.

Even though his skin never came into contact my mine, I knew that it would _never_ be the same. And I found myself not wanting anything else.

I stepped back before he could go any further.

I looked down to his hand, instead of the one that stayed hovering in the air.

A knife was firmly grasped between his fingers. Instead of attacking me, or threatening me with it like I thought he would, he held it out towards me.

"We've got to get it under control."

I took half a step forward, also reaching out my hand, brushing my fingers along the shiny blade. My skin tingled under the serrated edge. I bit my lip and looked up to his brown eyes. I couldn't tell what he was thinking. I never could.

It wasn't quite sharp... but it was dangerous enough.

Like Shane and I.

We were serrated edged knives.

He let me hold the it, as he exited the RV. My hands holding the metal, and not the handle.

 


	36. there she was

**_Third Person_ ** **_P.O.V_ ** **_:_ **

_He liked to watch her... as creepy as that sounded._

_He admitted to himself that he did. It was like an inescapable fact that he may as well embrace. He often found himself gazing at her cheeks in the_ _Georgian_ _nights. They played a canvas for the light that_ _flickered_ _onto them, coming from the burning embers in front of her. Watching her was like a beautifully shot film... it may get weird sometimes, and you may not understand what the hell was happening, but you couldn't turn your head away as it would give you a sense of curiosity._

_He couldn't find her eyes, as she would often be looking down at night. To that book._

_That book which she drew in endlessly. Sometimes she would drag the pencil along the page in random directions for an hour and she what she got. As they travelled from place to place, she would splatter dirt on certain pages, waters from different rivers, and leaves that fell from the branches that towered above her. She had to see the leaf fall... that was what qualified it to be gently placed in between the now torn and brown papers._

_Often, things fell out of it, but she wouldn't care._

_There were a lot of things that Daryl really didn't get about her; the way she did certain things; the way she looked at things. It was like she had a totally different eye to the world than other people._

_She would be sat, with a thin blanket around her shoulders,_ _cross-legged_ _on the ground amongst the twigs and dead flowers. Every night, just looking at her book. Her fingers tapping across the pages, turning them ever so often._

_He had one theory that she had a memory problem, and that book would somehow help her get up to date with some things. But, that theory was squashed when he heard her reciting some words from "Macbeth" that she had memorised. Daryl didn't know the words himself, but he trusted her._

_He often thought about the pictures that he saw when he should have been minding his own business. How the short few seconds revealed to him what type of person she was, and what type of people she knew._

_But his mind would be dragged back to her... always. Without fail. Like clockwork._

_Ever so often, she would reach up to her forehead, wiping away the built up heat with her cold fingertips. Her hand would linger on her lips, tugging at them._

_He always noticed those things she did, even if he didn't admit that._

_And one of the things he noticed she didn't do... was put flowers in her book._

_"Girl's like flowers, don't they?" he would ponder._

_Everything on those papers held a grisly colour, but there was nothing blue, purple or pink. The cover was a leather black binding, torn and chipping on both sides. It was on the verge of falling apart._

_That was why he was secretly surprised when one day they were walking along a trail, and she picked something up._

_Both Merle and Daryl had stopped when they noticed that she was not following. They lowered their weapons, the hunters pausing their exploration for food._

_She was knelt down in the grass, dirt covering her knees, placing her palms on the blades of grass trying to tug something from the ground._

_"Get_ _yer_ _ass up?" he remembered Merle yelling, but surprisingly, she ignored him and eventually got up from the ground, a small item gently clutched in her hand._

_Merle turned and kept tracking whilst Daryl kept his eyes on her._

_She took her gaze off the ground, and towards him. He nodded her his way, and she walked over to him. They started walking together._

_He didn't ask her what it was, he simply looked and had an idea of what it was._

_That night, when she took her usual stance, he took his own. Watching the light dance on her porcelain skin like tiny ballerinas._

_Except, he watched intently as she pulled the flower from her pocket, opening to an empty page and pressing it firmly to the paper. It was white and soft. Its stem turned brown from being plucked from the ground._

_He watched as her long slender fingers played with the edges of the petal, before closing the book entirely._

_Daryl knew what kind of flower that was. It wasn't something you'd really expected from him. He still remembered it from somewhere lost in his mind. He didn't really know where he found out about it... as if he would be looking at a florists magazine._

_But he just... knew. But he wouldn't have remembered it if he didn't know so much about the girl he was looking at._

_He would have forgotten. But he didn't because the one flower that Marley decided to put in her book was a Cherokee Rose._

_And she did what he liked that night. She looked up into the flames, creating reflections in her eyes that could compete with stars._

+

**_Marley's P.O.V:_ **

I watched from afar as Rick conversed with Hershel.

The fire in my bones rose up again, and it took everything in me not to just storm over there and yell in Hershel's face about all that we had lost because of being out there. What it made us all do?

And yet, the farm was untouched, like an oasis.

But a certain sense of envy came with knowing all that they hadn't been through.

I would always have that nagging voice in the back of my head, secretly whispering that they did not deserve all that they had. They didn't seem special at all.

I grasped the bark of the tree next to me, my other hand pressing against my black eye, causing pain to radiate a warmness in the side of my face. I closed my eyes as tears sprung to them, lingering on the end of my eyelashes.

When I opened them back up, Rick ended his conversation with Hershel, walking up the steps and back into the house to probably see his son.

That would have been my chance to go over there and talk all the sense I had left in myself into him. To inject some truth.

I nearly jumped out of my skin as a hand pressed something to the side of my arm. I turned to hit or slap the person who did, but it turned out to just be Glenn.

"Special Delivery," he said tiredly. His gaze followed the girl that was walking up the steps to her house. A type of gaze I saw in the movies... if I still remembered movies.

"Thanks, Glenn," I said, stifling a yawn. Then my eyes caught something that might be embarrassing for him.

I watched his eyes watching Maggie, and I put the pieces together. Instead of my initial thought, my second one fit the situation better.

"So," I caught his attention, then I reverted my eyes downwards. "You didn't go for a pee."

His eyes turned wide, looking down to where I was pointing.

His fly was undone.

His hands fumbled with the zipper as he hastily pulled it up, pushing his shirt down over the top of his jeans.

I laughed at him, but he didn't seem to be finding it funny at all. He had a look on his face like I had just insulted him when all I really did was point out the obvious.

"Don't worry Glenn," I laughed, glancing over my shoulder to the girl in question and then back to my friend. "I would too."

His eyes turned wide yet again at my discovery, and he was about to say something to cover it up, but I interrupted him. I put my hand up to his face. "Your secret is safe with me."

I then turned to stand beside him as we looked at Maggie Greene, talking to her father.

"You would?" he asked, confusedly, furrowing his brows.

"Yes," I said firmly.

"So you..."

"Yes."

There was a long pause and I looked to him, seeing his face putting the pieces together.

"And you like-"

"Yes. Both." With that, I left him to gaze at the beautiful girl.

As I walked, the box in my hand let out a rattling sound. I looked down to it, grasping the skin on my neck with my free hand.

I took everything inside of me not to crack open the plastic bottle and take them then and there. But it would be in front of everyone... and they really wouldn't understand.

+

_**Third Person P.O.V:** _

Daryl stepped down from the RV, closing the door behind him.

Daryl was nervous, and he didn't like it because he knew exactly who was causing it. And it was the kind of nervous he was not used to.

It wasn't the nervous he would get as a young child when his father came home. When he heard the slamming of the door and the heavy drunken steps walking around the house.

It was the type of nervous he couldn't really explain. It made his shirt pocket feel heavy as he knew what was inside of it.

He knew he shouldn't have yelled at Marley that morning. He didn't want to have to... but no matter how much of a douche it made him sound when he thought about it, it was the only way she would answer truthfully.

He couldn't help but not trust her because he knew how many lies she had told. Lies she had told about herself and about him.

But he figured then that it was a survival mechanism.

Now it was something she could not do.

It was getting darker as he approached the dark blue tent. A fire to the left of it, and a log propped by the furnace.

He expected to see her sitting by the fire, but all he found was black pieces of wood scattered on the burnt ground, small tendrils of grey smoke. Instead, he saw a light being cast inside of the tent, and he could clearly see her shadow.

He lay his crossbow by the log, then approached the door to the tent. He placed his hands together, rubbing them gently together.

He spat out the piece of wheat he was chewing and grabbed the open flap.

He lifted it up and there she was. There she was

_There she was._

That was what he always thought when he saw her

_There she was._

He wanted to rush up to her and shake her shoulders to demand answers. But he knew he couldn't do that.

Marley looked up from her curled body, laying her head on one of her hands, the other hand tugging the blanket up to her shoulders. Her nose was buried into it, her shoulder poking out, a lock of hair laying on her cheek.

When their gaze met she immediately reverted her eyes downwards and shuffled backwards slightly.

Normally at that time of day, her eyes would be heavy, and she would be ready to sleep. But that night, they were wide awake.

Daryl pulled the object out of his pocket, arguing in his head on whether he should give it to her or not.

He had completely forgotten about trying to get the truth from her about the other night and what happened with Shane. He didn't need her to say it... he knew. Shane had definitely done it, but he just didn't know her thoughts about it.

"Sophia?" she asked quietly, her small raspy voice cutting through the cold air. She raised her head slightly, the lock of hair falling onto her bare shoulder.

"Nah," he mumbled, hardly being easy to hear, but Marley had gotten used to that tone of voice from being around him.

He didn't tell her about the house he found, as he knew that she wold want to go out and follow that lead. She would walk barefoot in the dark, going back to that house.

She laid her head back down, except this time laying on her front, face still looking to him. She pouted her lips in disappointment, huffing out a breath of air.

Daryl rubbed his eye, then lightly tossed the object he had towards her. It landed by her stomach. She sat up fully then, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear. She picked up the object.

It looked to Daryl like her lips wanted to smile, but she for some reason was not letting herself. Her eyes betrayed her and lit up at the sight of what he had thrown her.

She ever so gently picked up the flower by its soft petals, bringing it to her nose and breathing in the airy scent.

He watched her intently, still, as he lowered himself to the cot below him.

Her face eventually gave in, and her nose crinkled up adorably and she stuck her tongue between her teeth as she smiled.

He hadn't seen her smile since the CDC, and he hated that she didn't do it often. Her smile was like a rare painting that only certain people in the world had seen once in their lifetime. Sure, she had smiled in front of him before, but it was normally to say she was " _fine_ " when, in fact, he knew she was lying.

But this was genuine. It was real.

And he found himself thinking the same thing he always did; There she was.

He lay back onto the scratchy blanket, looking to the ceiling of the tent, putting an arm to his forehead.

"Did you give one to Carol?" her voice interrupted again.

He only nodded, still looking up the roof.

He heard shuffling, and at the corner of his eye, he could see Marley unravelling herself from the blankets, her naked legs stretching out and standing up.

She didn't mind him seeing her like that. She usually slept with very minimal clothing, so she could snuggle up to the blankets and warm herself up that way. She wore some grey fabric short and a large button up shirt, that would reach mid thigh.

He watched her confusedly as she stepped out of the tent.

Daryl was surprised to even find her awake when he got back, and then she was going outside into the dark. She was acting very un-Marley like that evening.

Marley placed her bare legs on the grass, and they became cold. What she wanted.

She lay her back onto the ground, making her hair fan out above her into a whirlwind of red. Her hands became folded on her stomach as she looked up to the sky, the Cherokee rose becoming safe in-between her fingers.

It was still on her mind that she wanted to just die; that being a blunt way to put it. But it wasn't like she wanted to take Daryl's gun and stick it between her teeth. It was more of an accepting that she didn't care if she did.

If someone asked her to for the sake of gain, she would do it.

That was why she needed the pills. She had them before, and she knew they didn't really work for her, but she needed a sense that her thoughts were something that could be cured. But they couldn't, because they were her thoughts.

Taking that type of medicine during the end of the world wasn't really advised, and she knew the consequences if she stopped getting them.

The withdrawal was not the most pleasant thing, and last time she had someone who loved her to look after her and get her through it. If he really did love her.

But right then, she didn't even have herself.

The pills were safely hidden away in her backpack, and she had taken one. Just one. Only ever one.

Her ribs ached as she breathed out, and her spine started to form a dull pain as she shook violently. She would have gone back inside to get warm and sleep.

But that night was the end to a new day.

+

When Daryl woke up, he looked to his left and found that Marley had not slept on her cot. Or either she had gotten up early, which was strange in itself.

An unwanted sense of worry washed over him, the emotion making him cringe every time it occurred. It took him back to when he found his brother's hand on that rooftop. When he was yelling at the sky, and cursing the world.

He rubbed at his tired, baggy eyes, cracking his knuckles multiple times. 

He managed to get up from the cot, opening the door to the tent, and peeking outwards to their camp. Where he expected to find her, and she was not there.

Stepping out carefully, he used his decisive eyes to scan the entirety of their residence but found nothing but grass, logs, and the few squirrels he had strung up by the tree. He didn't remember putting them up there.

After changing into some cleaner clothes... at least clean enough for him, he picked up his crossbow and crossed the field to wherever the group was gathered. 

Carol and Lori were hanging up clothes and he expected Marley to be there with them. He expected her hair to be flowing freely down her back as her arms stretched up to reach the much taller clothes line. Her t-shirt lifting up and showing the tiny scratches that were permanently etched into her skin.

That's where he thought she would be.

"Morning guys," he heard Rick announce, walking towards the hood of a car. "Let's get going, we have a lot of ground to cover."

Daryl thought he wouldn't have a chance to see the girl that morning, but as he followed slowly towards the car, he found her. 

Her elbows were rested on the hood, her neck strained upwards towards the sky. She wore a long-sleeved shirt that covered the marking on her arms. Her strawberry waves lay against her bruised eye and cut up face.

He awkwardly stood next to her, putting his crossbow on the ground as more people gathered. The girl threw him a quick glance, with a weak smile. 

She nervously chewed on her shirt sleeve, standing up straighter as Rick started talking.

"All right, everyone's getting new search grids today. If she made it as far as the farmhouse Daryl found, she might have gone further east than we've gone so far."

Daryl's eyes were brought away from the girl beside him at the sound of his name. Daryl fiddled with the shirt he had in his hands, throwing it over himself whilst he kept a cautious eye on the boy who had approached them saying he wanted to help them out. Daryl stole a quick glance towards Marley, seeing her lost in her own world and staring at the map laid out in front of her. 

She hated to admit it to even herself, but she was instantly turned off by the farmboy just because of his name.

Shane's voice cut through the air, from where he was sat inside the actual truck. "Nothing about what Daryl found screams Sophia to me. Anyone could have been holed up in that farmhouse."

"Anyone includes her, right?" Andrea replied.

"Whoever slept in that cupboard is no bigger," Daryl hovered his hand near the side of his waist to imitate Sophia's height. "than yay high."

"It's a good lead," Andrea commented.

"Maybe we'll pick up her lead again," Rick added, clearing his throat and looking at the map.

"No maybe about it," Daryl started, and Marley looked to him.  Dale approached with the bag of guns and gently placing them down in front of the dancer.

Marley eyes her gun which had been put in there after she came back from the High School with Shane. It was a double holster with just one gun. Her eyes held a dangerous sense of wanting.

"I'm gonna borrow a horse, head up to this ridge right here, take a bird's-eye view of the whole grid. If she's up there, I'll spot her."

T-Dog lifted an eyebrow at his idea, suddenly having a joke rising up to his lips. "Good idea. Maybe you'll see your chupacabra."

The once glum looking Marley now emitted a soft laugh at his comment, smiling at her friend and then setting her eyes on the man who had apparently seen the chupacabra.

Although Daryl had told the rest of them the story, she had heard it from Merle, which turned out be a more animated and comical telling of the story.

"Chupacabra?" Rick said confusedly, looking between the laughing Marley and T-Dog, to the slightly scowling Daryl. 

"You never hear this?" Dale smirked, fidgeting with the bag of guns. "His first night in camp, Daryl tells us that the whole thing reminds him of a time when he went squirrel hunting and he saw a chupacabra." Dale passed over a gun towards Rick.

Jimmy snorted at that. Marley couldn't help but follow with her own, gripping her side and stopping her silent laughter when the pain became too annoying and harsh. 

 _"This crazy lady here was getting his panties in a knot, raving 'bout seeing a damn chupacabra,"_ She remembered Merle saying.

"What're you braying at jackass?" Daryl accused Jimmy.

The boy challenged Daryl. "So you believe in a blood-sucking dog?"

"You believe in dead people walking 'round?"

Marley couldn't help but lift her smile from the ground and point it towards Daryl.He was amusing her, which he hadn't done very often. He looked at her from the corner of his eye, and they held each other's gaze. There was that moment before she put her eyes to the ground, slightly embarrassed and a near blush rose up her neck.

Before Daryl could muster up anything near to a smirk or a smile, he was pulled out of his thoughts as he noticed the teen boy reaching for the shotgun.

Rick pulled it away from him before he could grab it. "Hey, ever fired one before?"

"Well, if I'm going out I want one."

Daryl lifted his crossbow onto his shoulder, almost hitting Marley in the face, but catching it before it could. "Yeah, and people in hell want slurpies," he remarked, annoyed at the Jimmy's behaviour. Holding the strap of his crossbow, he walked swiftly in the direction of the stables. 

Marley's eyes followed him, and she wanted her feet to follow him too, but turned against her mind's suggestions.

Shane said he would teach him to shoot the next day, in a training session for the lesser experienced in shooting. But that day, Andrea and T-Dog would be accompanying him in their own search for Sophia.

After Andrea and T-Dog were given their search grids, whilst Marley looked on anxiously, again chewing her shirt sleeve.

Then it was the two cops, Dale, and the dancer left gathered around the map.

"Marley, I want you to drive up to the highway," Rick instructed the girl, shuffling through the sheriff's bag looking for a certain something. "Even if she stayed in that farmhouse, she could still go back. Don't stay there for long though, maybe twenty minutes"

Rick found what he was looking for, and handed the gun into Marley's hands. At the sheer weight, her hand began to shake.

She only answered with a small, "Yep." She tucked the gun into the back of her jeans.

"Will you okay by yourself, maybe you should take-"

"No, it's fine."

The thing was that Rick shouldn't have let her go by herself. She was a dangerous person to be left alone.

Left to her thoughts, the words in her mind were so loud that even the quietest room couldn't silence them. They would just keep going.

The thousands of her words that could go through her mind per second always set a fire in her head that only certain actions could put it out. 

But they would not be her own actions... they needed to be someone else's.

 

 


	37. ghosts

_**Marley's P.O.V:** _

It was quite foreign for me to be holding a steering wheel. I was shaking, holding the rubber of the wheel tightly, it squeaking under my grasp. My scarred hands made it a weird sensation to add onto that.

I hadn't driven since before my parents were taken, and I never planned to be driving again.

Those pills were supposed to be helping, but all they did was heighten every sense like all I could see was through a kaleidoscope. Whilst everything was clear, it was like a jigsaw puzzle made up with mismatching pieces. Everything was in the wrong place.

It made me constantly dizzy, and slightly out of it. It probably wasn't the best state I could have been in to drive a car, but I felt too awkward to say something.

I wanted to go out there and help with finding Sophia, and all I could do was visit somewhere she probably hadn't been. There was no sense in my mind that told me I was going to find Sophia. I was not going to be the one to find her.

The adamance in my code truly showed itself as I refused to be treated like a porcelain doll even when I found it painful to breathe.

And I had no control over my drive.

I had arrived at the highway, the place feeling familiar due to there being a large space where the RV once was. A dusty car had painted words scribed onto the front screen. "Sophia stay here we will come every day" it read, the messy words becoming an important message.

After calling out her name and searching high and low throughout the abandoned cars, it appeared to me that Sophia was not there. Unlike what Rick had said, she didn't come back, and instead she would have been nearer to the house Daryl found.

Getting back in the car, looking at the tiny watch Glenn had given me a while back but had never gotten to use, I was going to time how long I was going to be here. Although a sense of guilt washed over me at the possibility that she could somehow, miraculously come back mere seconds after I left. I was going to leave as soon as I could.

I didn't like being alone for too long now.

Being alone used to be a private, and self-worth thing. You could get more things done, relax, do what you please. But in this new world, alone was dangerous.

Alone was a walker lurking around the corner and not turning in time.

Alone was a human taking your supplies.

Alone was doing things no one stopped you from doing.

Alone was no longer what it used to be and I hated that.

The seat felt uncomfortable, stiff. It smelt of smoke, and it creaked under slight movements. The floor was covered in leaves and dirt that soon covered my already dirty boots.

Looking back down to my watch, I still had fifteen minutes left.

I soon turned catatonic as I had nothing to do. My vision became foggy and my brain had sparks running through it that resembled a migraine.

Pinching the bridge of my nose, I scrunched up my face in annoyance and pain.

With no book to look through, or person to talk to, I couldn't help but turn to myself.

" _It hurts, doesn't it?_ "

I knew who was talking and I didn't even question why I was hearing his voice. Why I had that prickly feeling on my skin that told me someone was sitting right next to me. His words sent my hairs on end like they always did when he laced each syllable with such poison.

But the way he said it now was different to before... it was calmer, almost soft.

" _They do say that guilt can have a physical effect, as well as mentally._ "

Again, that voice. And now I had that sickly warm feeling that I was surrounded. But I knew I was surrounded by no one. It was an odd feeling to know that you were going slightly crazy rather than denying it.

" _A lot of guilt is on your little head, my Ariel._ "

I dared to peek sideways, spotting the dark suit he wore when he died. Biting my lip, I bravely but most certainly, stupidly took his whole appearance in.

His jacket torn on one shoulder, his eyes still as dark as before. A gaping hole on the right side of his head that had once gushed out blood and had now dried, becoming congealed and sticky. Shining under the allotment of the sun from the window, and his face slightly sunken and drained of life. Gray and dusty, seeming to crumble like an old building.

The arm I had supporting my head started to involuntarily shake, knowing he was there. And although I could not see his chest rise and fall, showing that he couldn't possibly be there, he felt so real. My body reacted like he was there, but it couldn't possibly be happening.

Wanting to not look at him, I tore my eyes upwards and towards the rear view mirror, but was met with something much worse.

Being in a similar state to the person beside me, three eyes stared back at me. Blank and most certainly dead. Brown, Green, and blue eyes stared back at me.

I couldn't help but wince, closing my eyes as tightly as could. I hoped that what I was seeing would certainly fade away soon enough.

Opening them back up, they were still there. But, unlike the person beside me, they did not say a word, instead they held their gaze on me like they were waiting for me to do something.

Gripping the steering wheel once again, grinding my teeth together painfully... I wanted to scream. That knocking in my head was a consistent noise that got louder, and I wished then that the radio still worked so that I could drown out the noise.

" _How are you doing?... since you stuck a bullet in my brain,_ " Jimmy accused, sitting back to be more level with me. He straightened out the ends of his jacket, acting like this was just another day. Like seeing your dead boyfriend was normal.

"I didn't-"

" _No,_ " he interrupted, getting a little bit louder. " _It was that new boyfriend of yours, what was his name?_ "

He looked to my face, but I refused to meet those dark eyes again. They held too many memories within them that I wasn't very fond of reliving.

" _Asshole was his name?_ "

I shook my head gently. "Daryl," I confirmed, trying to put a more stern tone into my words.

" _Ah, you see you didn't tell me he wasn't your boyfriend._ "

Looking back up to the mirror, they were still there.

" _You see our guests,_ " he cheered, giving a breathy laugh at the end. " _Mommy and Daddy aren't happy with what you've done... and dear old Otis is here too. It's like a damn party in here!_ "

He was shouting now, and I would have told him to keep it down, but I knew better than to play along with the games my mind played. To play chess with nothing but a phantom... a ghost. No matter how real it felt.

Jimmy reached out to touch my jaw, but all he did was hover it close. The nothingness there freaking me out as I kept still under his empty gaze. I heard him click his tongue, and pull his hand away, obviously disappointed that he couldn't lay his hands on me.

" _I wish I could touch you, Ariel,_ " he said, almost trying to make me pity him.

This time, I did look at him, furrowing my eyebrows together angrily. A feeling I had never really felt in his presence. I guess, this counted as being in his presence.

"My name is Marley," I retorted, gripping the steering wheel with all the built up fire I had inside of me.

He scoffed in response, similar to when he used to drink, coming home and saying that he wasn't happy that I wasn't naked and waiting for him.

" _We're both technically wrong there,_ " he lifted up his eyebrows, pulling one side of his face upwards into a manic smirk. He lifted a grey finger to point it towards me. " _Your actual name is Marlene._ "

"You're fucking crazy."

" _I'm not the one who's talking to her dead boyfriend,_ " his words became similar to the hiss of a snake, and I swore I felt him spit on me. " _If I'm as crazy as you think I am, then what the fuck are you?_ "

"Alive."

He laughed, his whole demeanour seeming amused at the situation. He didn't falter his gaze like I thought he would.

His much braver girlfriend must have been a fun challenge for him, and I was adamant to win.

" _You shouldn't be,_ " he started calmly, but as he spoke more, his words became faster and more venomous. " _See, without me, there's no one to keep you still. No one to stop you._ "

" _I was doing the whole world a favour when I pinned you down. Because, you, Marley, are more dangerous than those people you watched on TV._ "

" _No one can come out of what you did without being cracked in a few places, and my dear, you're fucking broken. You're that shit people call 'Modern Art'_ "

" _Without me, you are alive. Do you want to know what would have happened if I lived?_ "

Suddenly the thumping in my forehead turned into a large blow to my brain, and I truly thought that someone had shot me. My head felt like it was splitting in two, the electricity that came with it travelling down my spinal cord and spiralling throughout all the nerves in my body.

I put my hand into my tangled hair, pulling at the roots. I was sure I had actually pulled some of it out.

Blood started to trickle down my forehead, catching in my eye and turning the whites of them red. I blinked it away and took the rear-view mirror in my shaking hands turning it towards me to see a wound similar to Jimmy's.

His cold finger pointed towards me again. " _That's what would have happened, and it would have saved lives too._ "

" _You cannot live without others dying, you are a curse I was willing to keep at bay, and you didn't even know it. People should have thanked me for the control I had over you. I kept you weak, and that's how it should have stayed._ "

He lowered his hand, showing his teeth as he uttered more words that paired dangerously well with the blackness of his eyes. " _Because right now, my dear. You are more dead inside than I will ever be._ "

I tear rolled down my cheek, mixing with the blood that was already there. My hands shook more violently and I pulled my sleeves down my arms to wipe the liquid from my face. My sleeve showing nothing.

" _No one cares about you like I did,_ " he whispered.

"Yes, they do," I wanted to win so badly, but my gameplay was as weak as he used to keep me.

" _Who?_ " he laughed, slicking back the hair on the side of his head where there was no blood, looking out the window to the cars in front of us. " _Your boyfriend, Daryl?_ "

"Yes."

" _See, again. You don't deny he's not your boyfriend, and I love that!_ " he shook his hands in fake excitement. He sighed like a teenage girl in love. " _Do you care about him?_ "

Without faltering, but a small break in my voice as I still tried to wipe the stuff off my face, "Yes."

I felt confident about that, and I had stopped denying it at that moment. A surge of good feelings swept over my warm skin but was quickly diminished as the moment ran on.

Jimmy turned in his seat, to the tree people in the back. " _Let's see if Mom and Dad approve._ "

I couldn't help but watch him as he looked back to the three people in the back. All of their wounds being how they died.

Looking in the mirror, I saw them fully.

Otis's skin looked to be peeling off his neck, bite marks scattering his body. My mother had a single shard of glass stuck through her chest and coming out the other side making her have to sit forward. My father had so many bruises, it looked like his skin was naturally a mixture of purple and green, there was no start and no beginning of them.

The tears fell freely down, making a small salty puddle on my collar bones.

" _Hey, Violet, Robert, what do you think of your daughter dating a stupid redneck murderer who rides a motorbike?_ "

"He's not my boyfriend."

" _Of course not,_ " he shrieked, getting closer to my face with a frightening look in his eyes. " _I know what you're fucking like, who wants to even care about Marlene Martin Fucking Allan!?_ "

"Stop it!" I yelled, my voice breaking, shaking my fists near my bruised and stained face. "Just stop it! Stop it!"

Images of memories swam across my eyes. Otis screaming for us to die and the snow that fell when my parents died.

Jimmy started laughing manically. My ears erupted with the echoes of his voice. His loud cackles bouncing off the walls in my head. I couldn't help but think of what he said as true.

' _Who wants to even care about Marlene Martin Fucking Allan?_ '

The answer?... Not even me.

As his laughter became a thunderous crackling in my ears, I grasped the wheel tightly and took a sharp intake of breath.

I screamed.

Jimmy, Otis, Violet, and Robert vanished, the desperate sound coming from my lungs squeezing the organs tight and making my brain light up with violent electricity.

The sound I made would surely shatter the window around me, and make wolves whimper from fear. It injected fear even unto myself, a shot of sick adrenaline ran through me. 

I screamed hoping that it would navigate me out of this world that I never called hell.

because hell was a club for the sinners, and the earth was a cocktail of everyone you could ever think of.

Earth was worse.

Because I was sure that I will always stay here. Almost in a state between living and dying. Stuck in a constant loop. Never belonging, yet, being a necessary... something.

+  
  
When I came down from my really unexplainable episode, I noticed that I was 20 minutes late leaving, meaning that I had a paranoid Dale rush up to me when I came back. His eyes wide, grabbing my shoulders which I really didn't want him doing.

For a moment I thought he would be eyeing the blood that I once felt on my forehead, but that being a figment of my own illusion, he wasn't. Instead, he was looking me in the eyes, whilst I tried to revert mine.

"D'you run into something?" he asked kindly. I knew that he was trying his hardest to look after me, but truthfully I didn't want any of it.

"No... I just," pointing my thumb over my shoulder, I was slightly frazzled. "Fell asleep," I lied expertly.

"Well, you must have needed it," he smiled, taking his hands away from my shoulder, brushing them down my arms in the process. "Uh, Lori and Carol are making dinner for everyone tonight."

"That sounds nice," I was actually uninterested in Lori and Carol making dinner. "I think I'll just keep watch with Andrea." I spotted Andrea looking down at me briefly, a straw hat on her head, sniper aimed forwards in front of her. 

I took the gun from the waistband of my jeans, handing it to him shakingly. I almost held onto it for too long, my mind clinging to it desperately

He nodded, hauling the water canister he had from the ground and continuing to where he was going. He patted my shoulder briefly.

I decided first to go to the bathroom, just in the RV. I was not going anywhere near that house. Not in it, not on the porch if I could help it.

Climbing the steps, there was no one there, thankfully. 

The knife from earlier was staring me down, keeping itself just at the corner of my eye. Like inanimate objects could think.

Walking past it as fast as I could, I made it to the toilet. I didn't need to do anything but look at myself. I didn't trust the rearview mirror from the car, and I needed a bigger one to fully see myself.

Normally, looking in the mirror was an everyday thing, now it was a luxury. I would go days forgetting what my face looked like. What exact shade my eyes were? How many of my barely noticeable freckles had appeared due to the amount of sun I must have absorbed?

None of that mattered anymore.

Looking at my face now... it was all just a part of me. It was like the bruise on my eye belonged there. The grazes were put there for a reason. All my injuries just matched what was inside.

I thought that this was what ghosts felt like all the time; internalising everything because there was no way for them to externalise anything. Every injury they had endured didn't create pain. More like ache.

"You stupid bitch," I muttered, grinding my teeth together. "You stupid bitch."

I slammed my palm into the mirror, repeating what I said.

Just as I was about to slam my hand down again, I heard someone open the RV door, walking in. Their footsteps stopped, and I heard the chairs creak.

Keeping silent, I waited for them to say something or at least leave.

Another person walked in, and a conversation ensued, telling me who was there.

"Sorry," Glenn stuttered. "Just returning your book."

"Oh, no, I'm sorry," Dale sighed. "I had known the world was ending, I'd have brought better books."

That brought a faint smile to my lips before I wiped it away.

There was an awkward silence for a few more moments, giving me to time to realise that I was listening in on someone's conversation from an RV toilet.

Glenn was the one to break the silence. "Dale, do you think Andrea's on her period?"

I didn't intend to, but I flinched at his question out of shock and confusion.

"I'm only asking 'cause it's like all the women are acting really weird," he continued. 

I had the right to go out there and slap him, but poor Glenn was just always assuming things.

"And I read somewhere that when women spend a lot of time together, their cycles line up and they all get super crazy hormonal at the same time."

That was it, I burst open the door almost sending Glenn to the floor as he was so shocked to see me. He stuttered and blubbered, looking for words to say, full of embarrassment.

I walked past him slowly, not making eye contact with him until I came to the door, turning towards him. "Just for the record... I'm _not_ on my period."

+

"You look like shit."

"Thank you."

I couldn't agree more with Andrea. 

She let out a breathy laugh, crossing her legs in he arm-chair she had. I was parallel to her, facing the other way so that keeping watch was easier.

The wind blew through my hair, it brushing lightly against my neck, sending chills down my spine. I yawned, setting my eyes on Glenn who was walking away from the RV, obviously in a huff about something.

Andrea glanced at me from under her hat, "What's wrong with him?"

"He has a theory that we're all on our period"

"If you sa-"

I turned to her when she didn't finish her sentence, instead her arms became tense, jumping up from her seat.

"Walker! Walker!" she yelled.

Catching the attention of everyone around us,  halting in their positions. Whilst I jumped in my seat, almost falling over as I did a clumsy pirouette to turn around.

Andrea put her binoculars to her eyes. I didn't have the advantage, and all I could see was a dirty figure approaching from the treeline, looking to be dragging half it's limp body behind it.

I inhaled quickly, watching and listening as Rick, Shane, T-Dog, and Glenn started to run off in the walker's direction. Andrea had been ordered not to shoot like she wanted to.

Her being Andrea... she wasn't going to follow that order.

When the men had gotten far enough, she lifted the gun to her shoulder, clicking it. Looking through the scope, she got ready to aim.

"Andrea, don't!" Dale begged from his position on the RV ladder.

I lifted a hand to shadow my eyes, not being able to see the situation unfold with much quality.

Andrea lay on her stomach, getting a better aim.

It seemed that all was silent before a single gunshot rang through the air, followed by Rick's desperate screams.

The gunshot made my back feel like a ton weight was put onto it, my ears stinging at the harsh sound at such close proximity.

"No!" the man repeated, and confusion set in my veins.

_'What the hell was going on?'_

Andrea and Dale ran off to investigate whilst I was left there dumbfounded.

_'What the hell just happened?'_

When they came closer, a limp body hung low as Shane and Rick carried it by the arms. Only when I spotted Glenn with a crossbow in his arms did I realise... that it was Daryl.

Daryl Dixon was like a stray rag doll, being pulled along my support from under his arms. His head swayed from side to side as he was obviously unconscious. Blood stained his face and body, most noticeably where he had tied a makeshift tourniquet with his own shirt.

Daryl was a survivor.

" _Caring is dangerous,_ " Jimmy said beside me, appearing again in his dusty suit. " _Especially when you do it._ " He crossed his arms over one another, placing a smug smile on his dry lips.

I felt like I couldn't breathe, and it wasn't from the bruises.

"Why?" I asked in a hoarse voice.

" _Because you care... too much._ "

My fingers clenched into a fist, turning my knuckles white.

"Fuck!" I screeched, clambering down the ladder as fast as I could.

Jimmy Blake, and I hated to say it, was absolutely right.

 


	38. falling

**_Third-Person P.O.V:_ **

The sun peeked through the trees that hovered over Daryl. The mud and sand beneath him soaked through his shirt, sticking to his skin. His legs felt heavy as they sunk into the ground, and his neck became sore as it was laying on a rock.

He felt a few bugs crawl across the skin on the back of his hand, as he felt paralyzed. What little vision he had was clouded with darkness.

But the sound of footsteps pulled him back into consciousness. The sun that once blinded his sore eyes was now being blocked by a tall figure that stood over him.

The initial instinct to get up and attack whatever was there wouldn't carry out as his muscles wouldn't respond. He couldn't reach for anything to defend himself, and that tight feeling in his abdomen that signalled danger pulsated.

" _Why don't you pull that arrow out, dummy?_ " he knew that voice. His eyes were playing tricks as a familiar voice came into his eye line. " _You could bind your wound better._ "

He knew exactly who it was, and despite his entire self-telling him it was just an illusion, he smiled of sorts. Even if Merle wasn't really there, a sense of tension released from his shoulders.

"Merle." Daryl rasped, closing his eyes for a moment to calm down from the initial sense of danger.

His head throbbed where blood had started seeping from, but he didn't really care at that moment.

Merle grinned back at him, the edge of his leather vest catching the light. He laughed for a second before analysing Daryl. " _What's going on here? You taking a siesta or something?_ "

"Shitty day, bro," he muttered back.

" _Like me to get you a pillow?_ " Merle mused a smug look on his face as he looked at his out-of-it brother. " _Maybe rub your feet?_ "

"Screw you." The fact that Daryl knew he wasn't really there played on his mind. Questions knocked themselves back and forth through his head as his fuzzy mind tried to take it all in. Even if Merle wasn't there, he wasn't going to let him talk to him like that.

Merle only laughed again response. " _You're the one screwed from the looks of it. All them years spent trying to make a man of you, this is what I get?_ "

If Daryl could move... or if his muscles would do what he told them to, Daryl would get up and shout at his brother. Try to argue back. But every bit of energy was being used to stay awake.

" _Look at you,_ " the elder scowled. " _Lying in the dirt like a used rubber. You're gonna die out here little brother._ "

Daryl nearly fell back into darkness until his brother asked him a question.

" _And for what?_ "

"A girl," Daryl replied. He blinked a few times, some dry sand getting into his eyes mixed with the brightness that would peek beside Merle's head and nearly blind him. "They lost a little girl."

" _So you got a thing for little girl's now?_ "

Disgust coursed through Daryl's veins. "Shut up." He tried to put more energy into it, but it only came out slightly louder than a whisper.

" _'Cause I noticed you ain't out looking for old merle no more._ "

"Tried like hell to find you, bro." Daryl flashbacked to when he found his brother's hand and how desperate it made him feel.

" _Like hell you did,_ " Merle accused, furrowing his brows. " _You split, man. Lit out first chance you got._ "

Daryl never enjoyed how much Merle made fun of him or how much he accused him of things he never did. Other people's comments would fly over his head, they wouldn't matter, they were just words.

But there were certain people to him where their words could sting more than the most painful burn. They would cut through him, and the inner wall he had would crack at its edges.

He was sure... absolutely sure, of two certain people being those persons. And Merle was one of them.

But with Merle came a certain numbness, because he had heard it nearly all his life.

"You lit out," Daryl raised his eyebrows. "All you had to do was wait. We went back for you. Rick and I, we did right by you."

A look of disbelief and disappointment washed over Merle's old features. " _This the same Rick that cuffed me to the rooftop in the first place? Forced me to cut off my own hand?_ "

Achingly moving his eyes as much as he could, a blurred image was in front of him, and Daryl saw that his brother still had both hands.

He knew for sure that it was just his imagination. But still kept asking himself whether it was or not.

" _This him we're talking 'bout here? You his bitch now?_ "

"I ain't nobody's bitch," the younger said confidently.

" _You're a joke is what you are,_ " Merle scowled. " _Playing errand boy to a bunch of pansy-asses, n*ggers, democrats, and strippers._ "

He chuckled, but Daryl didn't like it.

Daryl knew exactly who he was talking about, and he didn't like it at all.

" _You're nothing but a freak to them._ "

It seemed like someone else was there, but all he could hear was their voice. It was distant and soft, sounding so quiet despite being right next to him. It was like music to his ears. He wanted to know who was calling his name. He tried to focus on it but was being distracted by Merle.

" _Redneck trash. That's all you are. They're laughing at you behind your back. You know that don't you._ "

" _Daryl._ " There it was. His name seemed to come from their lips like a sin and a prayer, and soft clouds. His mind was telling him he knew whoever was talking, but he refused to be unfocused from the sound for a second.

" _I got a little news for you, son._ "

" _Daryl._ "

" _One of these days, they're gonna scrape you off their heels like you was dogshit._ "

Something was wrong with what he was seeing. Merle seemed to glitch at the edge of himself. It was like a TV that was losing signal. His voice became muffled, and the other one was getting louder.

" _Daryl._ "

" _Hey,_ " Merle patted his brother's chest, the action feeling light, and not there. " _They ain't your kin... Your blood. Hell, you had any damn nuts in that sack of yours, you'd go back there and shoot your pal Rick in the face for me._ "

" _Daryl._ "

He wanted to know who else was speaking. His eyes were lazy as he tried to keep them open the best he could. His chest felt tight as the unknown voice got closer, and they eventually became more familiar.

" _Daryl._ "

_'What was she doing here?'_

Merle reached out to his face, grabbing his slack jaw.

" _Now you listen to me. Ain't nobody ever gonna care about you except me, baby brother._ "

" _Liar._ " The voice changed its words, but that didn't take away the raspy, honey-like quality.

The hand on his face seemed to change, feeling less rough. Merle glitched more, soon becoming someone else after he said his last words which were, " _Ain't nobody ever will._ "

It was a strange thing. Merle was there but was replaced in a split second by a halo of rose gold.

The voice matched with the face, and his stomach dropped slightly.

She knelt down in front of him, hovering over his face. Once she was no longer glitching, she smiled.

" _There you are._ " Her voice echoed like a song, seeming to be only something that could come from the lips of an angel. Daryl was sure that he was seeing an angel.

For this couldn't be the girl he was thinking of; her face had no bruises, her hair was clean, and her hand on his face was not scarred.

This was not Marley. But, God, he wished she was here.

Her hand left his jaw, and trailed down his chest, going to one of his hands. She laced their fingers together, using her other hand to push the hair away from Daryl's face. She cupped his cheek.

" _My poor Daryl,_ " she whispered the light around her face setting aflame to her hair. Her green eyes shone like lightning. " _You need to get up._ "

Daryl felt himself slipping, but the girl in front of him wouldn't let that happen. She leaned forward to where their faces were mere centimetres apart. Their noses bumped together.

" _Stay with me,_ " she breathed, it washed over his face and fell upon his parted lips. She was a deadly mix of sugar, and strawberry vodka. He didn't know how he knew that, but he was intoxicated.

" _You need to get up,_ " her eyes were as wide as his, being in such close proximity to each other was dong stuff to him on the inside. " _I'm in trouble and you need to get up._ "

_'Trouble? Why was she in trouble?'_

" _Only you can help me,_ " she fluttered her eyes closed, her hand leaving his and coming to cradle his jaw, making him not be able to look anywhere but her long eyelashes that brushed against his cheekbones.

" _Don't let me be alone,_ " she ordered quietly. " _I can't be alone._ " The girl shivered as her full lips torturously grazed his own for a second.

It took all his strength to lift his left arm to cradle her elbow.

This was nothing like when he had been so close to her back in the CDC. This was full of something he wasn't quite sure how to name.

Daryl found himself wishing that it wasn't a dream.

She hesitated from moving to speak again. " _Only you. Nobody else. You need to pull me back before it's too late._ "

He wasn't quite sure what she meant but almost found himself begging for her to get closer. She was like his own brand of drug, being that close was the best high he ever had from her. He felt starved of her, and he hoped she felt the same way.

Her soft fingertips trailed patterns behind his earlobe. He practically melted, falling into her and grasping what little material he had between his fingers from her sleeve - waiting impatiently and terribly preparing for the sensations to come.

How could she do this to him? How was she making him so soft, and willing to be on his knees for her?

She opened her eyes once again, and he thought she was going to walk away and leave him reaching out for her.

Daryl was on the edge, the absolute edge and he didn't think that he could take it anymore.

Her eyes looked down to his, blue meeting green.

Silent permission was settled and she looked down to is awaiting lips. Her fingernails doing wonderful things to the underside of his jaw.

After what seemed like an eternity spent in a strawberry blonde galaxy, somewhere between the brightest star and the darkest black hole, she placed her lips on his.

Daryl let out a shaky breath through his nose as he practically fell into her. She was so soft and delicate with her actions, like if she went too fast she would tear at each other's fragile edges. He was drowning in her and the only way to breathe was to pull away.

He didn't, instead trailing his fingers higher up her forearm, gripping it like if he let go she would float away back to the sky full of envious stars.

The man was delirious from her sweet lips, and he couldn't believe that it was really happening because nothing made sense at that moment.

She didn't make sense.

Marley was too good to be true.

Too fucking good to be true but he wanted her to be.

He found himself desperately reaching out to her and she started pulling away. The puzzle that they were, breaking apart, her pillowy lips rolling off his like liquid gold slipping from his grasp.

She stayed close to him, her eyes still closed and nose nuzzled next to his own.

Heat flooded his body, as her hands started letting go of him, and he almost pleaded for her to stay. It was odd, but she made him cold and being without her brought him back to reality and under the scorching sun.

He couldn't do anything but lay there uselessly as this practical goddess coated his lips with sugar as she spoke a few more words.

" _Get back to me,_ " she whispered hurriedly, her eyes opening and lighting up his day with a treacherous hurricane that bore deep into his skull with only one look at her deadly gaze.

She was violence and peace. She was rain and she was the sun. She was everything his entire being craved... and she wasn't even there.

" _Don't be scared,_ " she said with finality.

Those words woke him up to the pressure on his ankle like something was grabbing him. He looked down to see a walker gnawing on his shoe.

Suddenly panicking, he conjured up enough strength the kick it away from him.

He lunged to the right, trying to grab his crossbow but it was too late as the walker was back on top of him.

After some wrestling, Daryl managed to grab a stick beside him and beat the walker's head in. It split like a spoilt fruit, taking all the energy out of Daryl since he had just been in such a relaxed state.

He saw another walker approaching, knowing he was out of bolts he had to resort to the worst idea. Leaning back into the wet sand, he forcefully pulled the bolt in his side through his body and out one end.

It wasn't the worst pain he had felt, but it certainly wasn't the weakest. He swallowed the pain, grunting from exertion.

Finally getting it out, he struggled to pull back the string on his crossbow. He didn't want to be weak, and anger bubbled inside of him and he used that to his advantage. He soon got the wire up just as the walker was about to lung from above him.

Laying back and aiming, the bolt swiftly shot through the walker's head, sending it to through ground beside him.

Daryl didn't know whether he had taken a real breath since he last saw Marley above him, and now was his time to gasp for air. His chest rising and falling quickly, still not believing what had happened was true.

+

Blood surrounding his mouth, his wound bound, and crossbow trailing behind him he climbed the edge of the ravine once again.

At the call of birds, he looked up, facing the treacherous drop that took him before.

" _Please, don't feed the birds._ "

Looking behind him, Merle was standing there a smile rising to his lips.

Daryl huffed in exasperation and tiredness, becoming sick of his brother just appearing out of nowhere. He had enough of his hallucinations for one day.

His brother laughed, " _What's the matter, Darylina? That all you go in you?_ "

Daryl gritted his teeth, his arm shaking as he tried to lift himself higher.

" _Throw away that purse and climb._ "

"I liked it better when you was missing," he grumbled, all energy was being put into climbing.

Merle only laughed again, " _Come on, don't be like that. I'm on your side._ "

"Yeah, since when?"

" _Hell, since the day you were born, baby brother. Somebody had to look after your worthless ass._ "

Anger rose up in Daryl's chest again. But it quickly dissipated once he glanced back up to give his brother some sense, but he saw someone beside him.

She was there, and it appeared that Merle didn't even notice.

She stood there calmly, looking down at him, smiling.

She wasn't saying a word.

"You never took care of me. You talk a big game, but you was never there."

Hooking the vine around his wrist, he tried everything in him to climb farther.

"Hell," he hated to say it, "you ain't her now. Some things never change."

Merle tilted his head. " _Well, I'll tell you what - I'm as real as your chupacabra._ "

"I know what I saw."

" _I'm as real as her._ "

This made Daryl look up from the vines that tangled dangerously around his neck. Merle kept his eyes on his brother, and Daryl stopped climbing to look up at them both.

" _Yeah, I got your attention now, huh?_ " Merle smiled smugly. " _She's made you soft, boy. You'll be doing dam curtsies tomorrow with the way you're going._ "

"You best shut the hell up."

" _Kick off those damn high heels and climb!_ " Merle yelled.

Marley's hazy figure knelt down in the dirt and reached out her hand towards him with eyes luring him further and somehow helping him.

His muscles were like jelly, but an encouraging look in her eyes was all he needed.

The bad words Merle was giving him and her pale hand reaching out towards him gave him strength.

Just as he made it to the top, he went to grab her hand, only to grab the dirt below it. Clinging to a root embedded in the ground, he used up the last of what he had in him to make it upwards.

Daryl had made it, looking around with heavy breathes for his brother and the girl.

"Yeah, you better run!" he roared, directing it towards Merle.

But when he looked around further he saw no one. He was alone until a hushed voice spoke again.

" _Daryl._ " He didn't know how much he loved the sound of his own name until she had uttered it. She appeared in front of him, hidden behind the bark of a tree.

" _This way,_ " she smiled, once again reaching out her hand.

+

It all came too fast.

One second he was standing, looking for the strawberry blonde that led him there, and the next he fell to the ground, in pain... again.

For what seemed like the hundredth time that day, he fell down.

As he was lifted from the ground, his ear necklace being taken away from his mouth. "I was kidding," he breathed before his world was finally brought into darkness.

After Marley had figured out who it was and had gotten to the ground, she tried her hardest to follow after everyone.

Nobody paid any attention to her as she trailed breathlessly after Daryl's limp body. Her eyes held worry and confusion and fear. Her fists clenched tightly.

Everything was cloudy for her, and she felt her insides shattering like a glass house. She didn't like it at all. She didn't want to have those feelings. To be totally honest with herself, she wished she couldn't feel a damn thing.

But Daryl didn't make that remotely possible for her.

"What happened?" she almost cried, walking beside Rick and keeping her eyes on Daryl. She was wearing herself out and her ribs moaned in pain as her heart thumped against the cage of them.

"It's just a graze, don't worry," Rick comforted the girl, seeing clearly how much distress she was in. His own breaths came out shaky as he struggled with the weight of Daryl for a moment.

When Hershel let them in, he ordered that a few of them stay outside. He almost told Marley to leave but stopped himself when he saw tears starting to form on her doe eyes. He knew that she needed to stay with him.

Hershel had presumed they were a couple, but he didn't know for sure.

Shane sat on a chair, Rick knelt beside the bed and Marley next to Hershel trying to help him.

Hershel passed her a pair of scissors, shocking her from her daze of looking at Daryl with largely shocked eyes. "We'll need to cut his shirt off."

Whilst Hershel prepared to stitch Daryl's wounds, she grasped the metal in her shaky hands. Marley looked at the utensil for a moment, almost not trusting herself with the task.

She took his filthy shirt in her hands and cut the straps off his shoulder before moving to the part that covered his chest.

Daryl was still unconscious, but not for long as her fingers left a trail of fire as she slowly moved the shirt off of him.

On instinct, he instantly grabbed her wrist stopping her from going anywhere. She winced from the pressure until their eyes met and he let go of her, his eyes frantically searching the room he didn't recognise.

Her being there made him question if he was in reality, but the bruise that painted her face let him know that he wasn't dreaming or that he wasn't hallucinating again.

"I'll need you to move onto your good side," the vet ordered, still slightly annoyed that Daryl had taken one of his horses without his permission.

Daryl did as he was told but with Marley still in the corner of his eye.

After telling Rick where he found the doll, and Hershel healing his wounds and telling him he should be able to clean himself up everyone left - Except for her.

Throughout his discussion with the others he kept her at the corner of his eye.

When she wasn't a result of his confused mind, she was so much better. She was real.

Twice as pretty, twice as tragic.

He watched her carefully as she walked to the wall he was facing, and slid down it, bringing her hands to her hair.

He wanted to know what the hallucination-Marley meant by " _You need to pull me back before it's too late,_ " or that only he can help her.

Help her with what, he was hoping to find out.

"Andrea shot you," the girl sniffled from the waves of her hair that surrounded her hands that tangled within it.

"Ain't a big deal," he rasped fidgeting with the cloth he still had pressed to the side of his head.

"She could have killed you," she snapped. "Nobody is allowed to kill you."

"Who said so?"

"I said so."

The air was thick with tension as they burned each other's eyes with their own gazes. A storm was brewing before them and Daryl didn't want that to happen.

She got up from the hard floor and sat beside him on the bed, despite their previous bickering, she put on a playful smile.

"Who's gonna' look after me?"

Daryl made a noise similar to a laugh, but it only lasted a second as he kept his emotional-badass demeanor up. Even if that demeanor was its weakest around her.

He never felt the need to be that way around her.

He didn't want to be rude or have arguments with her. He didn't want to demand answers from her even when she didn't want to give them to him.

He didn't want to see her cry or be sad. He didn't want her to hide her bruised eye with her locks of fire. He didn't want her to ever be scared.

He wanted her to know what he thought of her, and what he had seen down in that ravine... but he really couldn't bring himself to form the words.

He wanted her to touch him again, and it seemed that her prayers were answered when she reached out and placed her hand on top of his.

"Daryl?" She brought him from his thoughts. "You're not gonna' die on me right?"

He was too focused on how she was holding his hand like she held it every day.

"Promise?" She whispered, tilting her head to the side, and that smile he loved so much rising up her face.

The back of his neck felt heated as he had a feeling pressure upside in him.

"If you promise me t-"

"Of course," she cut him off, dancing her fingers across his dirty knuckles.

"Then yes." His voice was so quiet and afraid he thought it might break.

He didn't think he had said surer words until just then.

' _Who wouldn't want to stay alive just to see her every day?_ ' he thought.

She let out a shaky breath having to look upwards as tears threatened to spill. She was still in panic mode from when she had seen him almost dead in front of her.

Daryl never thought he would have the thoughts he was having for a girl who suddenly appeared in his uncle's cabin, but he wasn't complaining.

She sucked in a sharp breath, getting up and letting his hand go in the process. Swiftly leaving the room not wanting him to see her have a panic attack of sorts.

" _You can't make that promise to him._ "

Jimmy's figure was leant up against the wall, arms crossed and a disappointment in his cloudy eyes.

Marley turned to him.

" _And he can't either, nobody can these days._ "

"Then I'll keep his promise for him."

" _How's that supposed to work?_ "

"I'm gonna' make sure that he stays alive... at whatever cost."

Jimmy laughed, getting up from the wall and towering over her much shorter self.

He lifted one eyebrow, curiously. " _You never made that promise for me_."

She tilted her head, analysing his challenging face.

"I made the promise to live much longer than you."

 


	39. guilty lullaby

**_Marley's P.O.V:_ **

"Standing guard?" a low voice spoke, his heavy boots dragging along the wooden floor I was sat upon.

My lower back, especially my tailbone, ached as I sat in an awkward position. My knees pointing upwards, my arms wrapped around my thighs, pressing them tightly against my chest. My long hair created a curtain, disfiguring my view of the person approaching me, but I knew who it was. Someone I hadn't talked to in a while.

"No, just hiding," I whispered into my sleeves.

He sighed as he lowered himself to the ground on the left side of me. His elbow brushed mine, but I didn't flinch away like I thought I would with him.

After he had talked to me, a sense of forgiveness washed over me after he left. I had realised he was right.

"Well, I don't blame you," he said amusedly, turning his face towards me, his eyes lingering on my wounds. Everyone who talked to me looked at me that way. "This social gathering they got going on is gonna be awkward as hell."

I laughed slightly at his wording.

It was silent for a few more moments before Shane spoke up again. "How you doing nowadays, Marl?"

His voice was quiet like we were exchanging secrets. That seemed to be all that we were doing anymore.

There was no more flirty deputy who patted my head when he was amused at how small I was. It was now very different; Shane, with his bald head and wanting to lead me somewhere he thought was necessary. Leading me to that place his mind was buried, but what he didn't know was that my grave was already built there.

"I still can't talk to people properly," I said honestly, keeping voice as low as his. I shuffled closer to him, my cheek pressing up against his shoulder.

He played with his cap in his hands, twisting it, and pulling it.

"You'll get there," he assured, now putting the cap on the floor between his legs. "Just gotta try and forget. Not let it get to you. Flip the switch."

"I don't think I have a switch," my voice was still hoarse from screaming that day. "And I can't forget when people keep looking at me like I just... said something weird in front of them." My words were hurried and desperate.

Shane's hand made my heartbeat rise and fall quickly, it coming into contact with my knuckles and picking up my hand. He turned it over, looking at the smooth and strange looking palm.

"I never said sorry fo- I don't know, throwing you was it?"

"It was more like unknowingly knocking," I smiled. "Hurt like a bitch, but palms don't scar easily."

He stopped surveying the lines on my skin, intertwining our hands together and resting them atop his knee. This caused me to move closer to him, my whole body curling into his. I had no choice but to rest the side of my head against his shoulder.

My whole entire being was tense.

Sure, Shane was cool and I didn't mind him holding my hand. But I was kind of a Geiger counter for danger, and I was contemplating on whether my magnetism to him was because of that.

He was the person I didn't have to lie to, so I found a certain weird comfort in being around him.

"Maybe I should shave my head," I said suddenly, not thinking before I came out with that. "You seem to be coping since you did."

Shane smirked, now looking away then back to me.

His eyes were the same colour as Jimmy's.

"No, don't do that," he uttered. "You'd regret it."

It was silent again, as our small laughter died down.

I thought about not lying to Shane; and telling him the whole truth, and nothing but the truth.

I could lie to others all I wanted, but Shane - I could tell him everything.

I could say that I wasn't fine, that I was seeing Jimmy, I could tell him what happened to me, I could tell him about my brother, and hope to everything in hell that he wouldn't leave me like the rest.

People who knew all there was about me to understand me never really stayed too long.

Shane was my opportunity to let it all go.

"I was a stripper before all this," I whispered, hoping no one curious was walking by.

I looked away from the wall and to his eyes. He looked shocked, but thankfully not disgusted.

"I would have never thought," he said simply. He didn't seem bothered at all.

"My parents died on my birthday," my words broke at the end, my throat starting to confine itself. "It was snowing, and my brother never came back."

Shane turned his body, facing it more towards me, his hand letting go of mine since I squeezed it too tight. I started wringing my hands together, tears threatening to spill over.

"Shane, he never came back and I don't know where he went."

I slid upwards on the wall, Shane following me as my legs carried me from wall to wall.

"Marl, you need to calm do-"

"No!" I squealed, staring him down. Neither of us looked like we were going to back down. Him more so than me.

_"Calm down Ariel."_

"My name is Marley!" I all but yelled. "Stop coming here and calling me that!"

Shane grabbed my shoulders, and unexpectedly pushed me backwards until my entire back roughly hit the wall behind me. My head made a knocking sound as it came into contact, and my hair flew in front of my face.

"Get your shit together!" Shane hissed, his hands curling into fists around the collar of my shirt.

We both breathed the same air as his gaze burned into mine.

"You first," I dared, ripping his hands away from me.

"I got my shit together Marl," he pointed an accusing my finger towards me. "Neither of us can afford your... whatever this is." He gestured around my head.

I felt extremely offended and turned off by Shane's abrupt turn in behaviour.

To be completely honest... I wasn't better.

"No," now it was my turn to point a figure at him. He towered over me, my tiny frame almost being comical as we had the argument. "What we did; no sane person comes out that. Despite you thinking that you have mastered this titanium persona, you really haven't."

"At least I got one. At least I can lie without looking like the guiltiest person alive."

"I've had to put on a show my whole life, but this fuckery needs some getting used to." We both now stood strongly, our shoulders parallel, our stare as deadly as a knife.

"No shit!" he tried to back me up to the wall again, but I only wavered in my balance. "We just can't have everyone knowing that."

"I'm not stupid, Shane!"

He brought his hand up to his forehead as our bickering died down a little.

I was going to try something.

I brought my face closer to him, he stood glued to his spot, and surveyed every little move I was making.

"If I were stupid," I swallowed. "I would have let Otis live."

His face stilled, and he slowly brought his eyes up to me.

"If I were stupid, I would have stopped you before you shot that gun."

He backed away from me.

"If I were stupid, a lot of people would have lived."

My hands clenched into fists, and we stood opposite each other as equals.

"And you know what," I smiled when I really shouldn't have. "I remember all the names of the people I feel responsible for."

He nodded in understanding like he wanted me to finish talking. But I was far from finishing.

"Jessica Mccall, Robert and Violet Van Allan, Samuel Clark, Cordelia Denver, Jimmy Blake, Lucy Smith, Otis, Peggy the fucking horse, and my fucking brother who I don't even know is alive or not."

"So don't talk to me about handling guilt when you have no idea about how much I have."

Shane didn't utter a single word as he backed away down the hall, picking up his hat along the way.

He had a facial expression like he didn't believe me.

I didn't need him to believe me, I was the one that needed to.

+

Outside - it was better than inside.

Dale had approached me, telling me that dinner was ready. I told him I wasn't hungry.

So here I was, leaning on the fence, wrapping my arms around myself as the cold started to emerge for the night, I could have easily just gone to sleep, but sleep wasn't important for me.

No sleep meant headaches but pinching and scratching my arms to try and focus the pain somewhere else. The cold made the bruises prominent, my skin rising up accompanied by goosebumps.

I was so hungry, but I refused to go in there and be surrounded by the people I have to constantly lie to.

And Patricia, she was there.

It would give them one less mouth to feed, so I wasn't hurting anyone.

" _Quite a scene in there._ "

I hated him.

" _Looks like Shane cares a lot about you," he smiled, leaning up next to me. "Bad decision to be completely honest._ "

"What do you want?"

I turned to him. He looked the same, except his eyes reflected the small amount of light that was coming from the house. They made them look glassy and artificial.

" _Well since I'm stuck with you until you, as Shane called it, get your shit together,_ " he crossed his arms, breathing loudly from annoyance. " _I kinda just wanna spend some quality time with you._ "

"You're disgusting," I spit, standing fully and walking forward. I don't get far as he appears in front of me.

" _That's not what you would usually say,_ " he corrected, raising his eyebrows and standing over me, at least trying to be intimidating. " _Thank you,_ " he whispered. " _That's what you would say._ "

I bit the inside of my cheek, looking around to see if anyone was around.

When I saw no one, my ears steamed with anger and ferocity.

"Thank you?" My hands shook, and I breathed heavily. "For what? For all the times, you left me crying on the floor? When I always got sick because you refused to take me to a doctor?"

" _I looked after you,_ " he seethed, bending his knees so he spat on my face at every syllable.

"You're. Not. A. Doctor." I said slowly. Recalling the memory, I felt a new sense of excitement at how brave I was being towards him, despite him not even being there.

He looked slightly defeated but more emotional than before.

"What about when you forced me..." I swallowed hard. "To do things. Things I didn't want to do, but you didn't realise 'no' meant 'no'."

His eyes were dead, and he evidently chews his tongue, watching me as I threw insults his way in any shape or form.

"When you passed me off to others like a doll, but punished me when you thought I was cheating."

No words from him.

"When you treated me like an item to be played with - your own little chew toy."

I expected him to do nothing more as I caught my breath, my neck flinching when I had the urge to pull out a knife and give him all the scars he had given me.

But he did something.

He bent his knees again, getting down to my level.

He was so close to me I could see the tendrils of flesh that were torn due to his bullet wound. All coming to together like violin strings.

" _At least I never tried to kill someone,_ " he whispered, hoping that my walls would crumble on every syllable.

"I never got that far."

" _Oh, you got pretty far, my Ariel,_ " he kept his voice level, like everything he spoke were factual. " _Just remember who pulled you back into the car._ "

I didn't want to think about that.

" _You're welcome,_ " he whispered with finality, and then his figure was gone.

I let go of a breath I didn't realise I was hocking, my side protesting and screaming for me to stop arguing with figments of my own imagination.

What was the point of him, and how could I get rid of him?

+

**_Third Person P.O.V:_ **

She was shouting at the air.

Marley was shouting at the air.

Daryl was surprised no one had gone out to check on who was making so much noise. The window only opened a few inches despite the obvious need for them to open more, because of where they lived. This caused him to only make out a few words.

She looked so crazy and strong.

He thought that was what he must have looked like when he saw her down in the ravine.

He had to keep reminding himself that she didn't actually kiss him. It was just a figment of his imagination - unfortunately for them both.

There was something so completing and final about them doing that together, that he didn't want it. Daryl knew no happy endings, so he kind of just wanted a happy start and middle.

He didn't feel the need to confide in her that way because he knew it wouldn't go too well. At least not at that moment.

Like a child hiding a secret from their parents, Daryl quickly scurried away from the window when he saw her start to make her way towards the house. Her arms swinging from side to side wildly, her hair following her like a river of fire.

Even in the dark he could see that.

He groaned as he lowered his now clean self onto the firm bed, securing the bandage on his head by tugging it slightly. He lifted the sheets to his chest, concealing his back and his past.

He heard her before he saw her, those dirty boots he had gotten her made the loudest footsteps against floorboards, but were silent on the ground - he didn't think they would end up in a house when he got them.

The door swung open and closed just as quick. He glanced over his shoulder and saw her lean up against the door to catch her breath for a moment. After that, she walked around the bed to sit on the chair opposite him.

She bent down, unlacing her boots to reveal mismatched socks. They were the cutest things - one was bright pink whilst the other had tiny hedgehogs printed on them.

"I thought it'd be warmer in here," she complained, setting her shoes aside and looking to Daryl.

His eyes flickered to the window he forgot to close and relished it had let a breeze in. He inwardly cringed at his mistake.

She follows his gaze and proceeded to close the window, turning the latch.

She sat back down, leaning into the dusty cushions trying to find a way to be comfortable. She shuffled around for a few moments, b she found no way she could sleep there all night.

Jimmy tended to appear when she was alone, so the only logical thing to do was not to be alone.

With Daryl being in the house, leaving their tent empty, she preferred to be by his side anyways.

She gripped the edges of the chair for a moment before meeting Daryl's gaze and talking. "Any planned company?"

He was utterly confused.

"No?"

"Is anyone accompanying you in your bed."

"No."

"Lovely."

She got up quickly, kicking her boots away from tripping-over distance and carefully laid down next to him.

She was facing him, as she shuffled around in the sheets, bringing them up to her face and lowering down impossibly further.

She hadn't slept on anything close to a real mattress since the CDC and she didn't remember that experience all too well.

Daryl Dixon was actually some sense of scared, and he absolutely hated that. He hated that she did it so easily - just looked at him, touched him, interacted with him. She made it look so godamn easy and he hated that he couldn't do the same.

He hated that couldn't look at her without his mind wandering.

His mind was his own and he wanted to control it, but Marley came at him with herself and he could never be prepared.

He detested everything about her, but he couldn't ever at the same time.

"What are you looking at?" She questioned, confused by his beady eyes that burned holes into her. She thought she must have startled him because he looked downwards.

"Nothing," he said, but it came out muffled as he mirrored her actions and pulled the sheet to his mouth.

She smiled, her eyes lighting up. "I'm nothing?"

"You know what I mean," he sighed, turning so he was on his back and looking to he ceiling. So he went looking at her.

"How was dinner?" Daryl inquired, even though he knew she didn't go. Carol had told him she wasn't there and that he should ask her about it. Something about how only he can do that.

Marley sensed he was trying to be funny by the way he said it.

"I didn't go," she breathed into the pillow, which she had the side of her face firmly pressed into. "Too many people."

"Same here."

"You didn't go because you got shot in the head," she lifted herself up to give him a knowing look. "Not because you have bad social skills."

"That too."

He felt her hit his shoulder before she lay back down.

She did a brave thing and shuffled closer to him, her soft lips only just grazing the muscle on his bicep.

He felt her eyelashes brush against his skin and it made him inwardly shiver.

The room as still like ice to her, and that only made her curl more into him. She was fearful that he would push her away, but he didn't.

"What actually happened to you today?" She whispered.

"Fell down a ravine, and hit my head."

"Your side?"

"Arrow."

"Oh."

"I saw merle."

That grabbed her attention as she fully lifted all her weight onto her hands so she could half hover over him.

He found it quite familiar, but he would never tell her that.

"What the hell?" She whisper-yelled, quickly tucking her hair behind her ears so she wouldn't lose balance.

"Just from hitting my head," he assured. She laid back down next to him. "He wasn't even there." He sounded disappointed, exasperated, annoyed.

"Anybody else?"

He was definitely going to lie.

"No."

A silence was upon them, and it was like that for the rest of the night. After Marley had gotten up to turn off the light, she resumed her previous position next to him.

Both of them were worried to disturb the other, so they lay completely still. Absolutely still.

They were both sure that neither of them breathed, and throughout the night they both steal glances at each other to kind of make sure the other was still alive.

Marley was the first to go to sleep, seeing as she was running on the least. She tried to stay awake, but the comforting factor that she was next to someone seems to work like a lullaby. Her nose ended up being nuzzled underneath his arm.

She didn't know it at all, but she was a loud breather in her sleep. She was like soft wind bellowing through trees - and Daryl couldn't find s more comforting sound to fall asleep to.

Whilst she was completely out of it, he tuned in on the noise.

Soon enough, he was completely out of it himself.

When Daryl slept he was like a cat. Completely unaware but totally aware at the same time. He chest would rise slowly and descend just as slow. It was like all the tensions he had that day were cut from their strings and his whole body relaxed.

With Marley tucked in beside him like a forgotten teddy bear, her slightly foetal position would be a bitch to stretch out from in the morning but it was the cosiest she ever felt in a day. All her warmth and heat concentrated towards her hands and heart, she became a furnace.

Daryl would awaken multiple times during the night and so would she but never at the same time, unfortunately.

When he did, he would just try his best to get back to sleep instead of thinking about how he had touched her, and yet he hadn't.

When she did, it was like disturbing a goddess. Her hair a mess and hurt in her eyes like she had just been betrayed. Her eyes wide and searching for the culprit who woke her by we only met with the side of Daryl's face and the moonlight that reflected off his collarbone.

She would eventually fall back asleep, becoming peaceful again.

Her legs would be pulled up towards herself, whilst one of Daryl's threatened to fall off the actual bed because Marley would actually claim most of the bed.

They were both kinds of a mess as they slept, not exactly fitting together. Unknowingly kicking each other during the night, or twitching in their dreams and nearly elbowing each other.

And when the sun shone through the window in the morning, Daryl was the first to wake.


	40. peaches

**_Marley's P.O.V:_ **

I didn't just want to barge in on Maggie and Glenn's hushed conversation, but I was oh so curious as to what they were actually talking about.

_Sex?_

_Maybe._

As I waited for them to part and stop talking, watching them from behind a tree, I did wonder how many times they had done it. There was the one in the pharmacy... but they could have gone twice... three times?

_'If they did it again, where would they do it?'_

Luckily, I realised how absurd my mind was turning, and Maggie departed from him, a sour look on her face. She cast her face over her shoulder, giving him a last look, which appeared to be a warning. Warning?

My mind was just so full of questions today. Anything, really, to keep my mind away from the devil on my shoulder. The angel too, just keep to my own choices.

I approached him as he picked a large wooden bucket up, after hooking his binoculars over his shoulder.

"Hey, Glenn," I greeted, putting a smile on my face - tried. "Oh my chuck!"

"What?" His tone was uncharacteristically panicked and paranoid.

"Peaches."

Glenn let out a breath, his shoulders dropping.

My eyes lit up at the sight of sweetness before me. A tremendous pile of sugary fruit, just waiting to be consumed.

I had a particularly sweet tooth, and the apocalypse brought only sour and dry cooked squirrel, along with rotten berries and dirt infested water. Seeing something so clean and fresh almost made me salivate like a thirsty dog.

He thrust the bucket towards me as I picked up one, and after a moment of thinking, picked up another.

I would have expected him to smile at least, but he only looked like he wanted to get away from me and everyone.

"Hey," I nudged his shoulder, his hyper nature making him jump on the spot. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," he said all too quickly. "Nothing's wrong, why?"

I stood in front of him and a little taller; if that was even possible. I stopped nibbling on the fuzzy skin of the peach and caught his full attention. "I'm asking the questions here, what's wrong?"

"I said nothing."

"Then what got Maggie so pissy looking?"

"Nothing!"

"Stop saying nothing."

"No, Marley, there's not anything going on."

I went to speak again but caught on. "Clever," I mocked, finally taking a bite into the fruit. I wanted to savour the taste but was too focused on Glenn's weird attitude. "But I asked you what's wrong, not what's going on."

"I'm fine," he scoffed, an obviously painful fake grin now plastered on his face. "Nothing's going on and nothing's wrong, okay. I gotta go give people peaches now."

He went to walk around me, but I stepped sideways to block his way. His grin didn't falter and kept persistent in his action of trying to get away.

He eventually gave up at trying to get around me and instead barged his way past my shoulder. This only made me grab the fabric of his jacket.

"Let me go," he struggled, almost dropping the bucket. That would have been a great loss. "Marl- what are you doing?"

I had fistfuls of his clothes enclosed in my hands, and my butt was close to the ground as I tried to pull him backwards. He only stood glued to the spot after he gained his balance back, and I truly underestimated his strength. The two peaches now sadly forgotten on the ground, I looked down to them, silently apologising.

When he didn't budge, and instead watched me over his shoulder seeing when I was going to be done.

"Fine!" I yelled, almost out of breath, letting him go. "But please tell me what's wro- oh." I didn't think he'd heard me because he was walking away from me. He was walking away with the bucket of peaches, towards Dale and T-Dog.

I caught up with him, grabbing two more, new, peaches away from the bucket. I bit into one of them, the juice dribbling down my chin. I lifted the back of my hand to it, wiping away and licking it from my skin.

After giving Dale and T-Dog a peach, Glenn acted suspiciously after T-Dog simply said, "Sup?"

He was a terrible liar and I could see straight through that. I supposed Liars could see liars perfectly.

+

Just as I was about to duck into my tent, a blonde head of hair stuck itself into my nose, and I almost fell over.

It was Andrea.

"And hey," a voice came from inside. "Shoot me again, you'd best pray I'm dead."

Andrea turned to me and we smiled at each other before she strolled off with her bag in hand.

Finally, ducking into my tent, the first thing I saw was Daryl poking holes in the tent with one of his bolts.

On instinct, I leapt over him to grab the bolt from his hand. I tried my best not to land on him since he still must have been sore from yesterday.

Surprisingly, he let me take it away from him, and I sat back onto my cot, careful not to forget about the peaches I put there.

"Why the hell were you doing that?" I said exasperated, chucking the bolt down between us.

"I'm stuck in bed, what am I gonna do?" he didn't look at me when he said that, instead scratching his almost-goatie and staring through the 'window' beside him.

I could understand that standing, or in his case, lying still was something he really didnt want to do. Much less with nothing to amuse him. He wanted to go out there and make himself useful. Funnily enough, making himself useful was what got him into his predicament.

"Just try not to destroy our tent," I laughed under my breath, before spotting a book beside him. "Or read that book."

I picked it up, turning it over to see the title which was, "The Case of The Missing Man." I had read it before when I was thirteen. That was a summer vacation wasted on trying to finish it - the ending was utterly dissapointing.

"Definitely don't read this book," I threw it back between us, and picked up the peach beside me, gently tossing it so it landed on his bare chest. "I know you have a sweet tooth, don't try and deny it."

He peered his eyes at me, before taking the largest bite I had ever seen anyone take off something. I'm sure he could just swallow it whole. I lifted my eyebrows, but he just ignored me, more focused on the food he was consuming. He made gentle humming sounds, he obviously didn't want me to hear, but he was absolutely terrible at concealing his appreciation.

Through a mouthful of peach, he spoke, "Thanks."

The way Daryl ate was always animalistic, and feral. Taking large unchewable bites, gnawing on bones and stuffing it into his cheeks. I had put it down to him just being really hungry, but I also thought it was because he was around squirrels so much.

"You're welcome," he tried reaching for his bolt again, but I held it against his reach. "Nope, you're not poking holes everywhere while I'm gone."

"Yes, ma'am."

I went to get up before I thought of something. I started rummaging through my bag, feeling Daryl's eyes on me.

"Since Dale does not have the best library to pick from, here," I handed him my own copy.

Wiping his hands on his shirt, he took it from me, analysing the front cover. "Macbeth?"

"Yep."

He started flipping through the pages, strategically with one hand.

"Not exactly the best shakespeare play to be the first to read, but it's my favourite," he stopped flipping through and looked at me. "Before I get back, I want you to read it all."

He simply nodded, taking another bite of his peach.

It was then that I decided to actually leave, going to one of the cars set on riding to gun training.

+

The noise was horrid; glass shattering paired with loud hollow gunshots. Then there was the noise they made when the bullets hit wood, it was like someone shattered a bone.

It brought me back, so I kept shooting in order to keep my mind busy and away from the past.

"Loosen your shoulders," T-Dog instructed.

"Yes mom," I groaned, taking aim again and hitting the bottle with a little more precision than last time. The glass making a satisfying crack and falling to the ground.

"There we go, ginger," he patted my shoulder.

"Strawberry blonde," I corrected, blowing away said hair from my face. "Get it right, baldy."

"Ooooh, I'm hurt," he patted his chest where is heart was, his eyes turning into slits at he feigned pain. He approached me, smiling, reaching downwards.

His gapped-tooth grin dropped, and I didn't know why.

"Marley," he said, furrowing his eyebrows. That was then I felt a tugging on my wrist. "Let go of the gun."

I looked down and saw that he was trying to take it away from me, but failed as my hand was like a vice around the metal.

"Oh," I finally let it go, giving him the opportunity for to him reload it. "Sorry."

Shane had given Andrea a new gun to play with, better, more balance. SHe aimed it towards a metal canistar on the fence, closing one eye, and hitting it perfectly in the middle.

"I'd say she's ready for the advanced class."

Without giving T-Dog any more time to load the gun, I grabbed it from him.

Quickly taking aim, and firing wherever because in my head I was aiming it in the right place. In my head, my shot was perfectly alined, but what was in my head and what was actually happening were always going to be two different things.

I kept shooting, and soon enough I didn't know where I was. My eyes winced at the loud noises, but it didn't falter my actions at all.

 _"I'm sorry,"_ Shane's whisper to Otis echoed, and a breath caught in my throat, I thought I was going to choke to death on nothing.

"Stop, Marley, stop," It was Rick, but I could hardly hear him over the rapid fire, hitting the ground and fence but never the bottle.

Gunshots then were replaced by clicks, but I kept going. A hand came up and grabbed the barrel, writhing it from my grasp. I realised what I was doing, and looked to his stubble covered face.

Even when the gun was out of my hand, my trigger-finger still pulled, spasming as if the weapon was still there. Luckily, I was able to stop it, pulling my hand to my chest, covering it with the other.

Rick stood in front of me, obviously waiting for an answer. I didn't know how I could give him one when I didn't know it myself.

"It's just... my trigger-finger got a bit excited," I put a smile on my face, and I looked around despite telling myself not to.

The look people give you when they think there's something wrong with you was probably the most painful look someone could give you. It was a face I never liked to see. It made my gut twist inside of me, and my eyes burn and head pulsate. My heart started racing.

"I'm fine," I lied... perfectly. But it probably wasn't the best thing to just say it outright.

Rick shook his head, slight dissapointment in his eyes - The second worst face to see. It was like my parents were still alive and they knew exactly all the things I had done.

I wouldn't blame them, I wasn't exactly a prize-winning daughter. Nowhere near, in fact. Any parent would happily try to disown me, leave to fend for myself, despite the fact that me having to fend for myself was what made me the way I was.

I could feel everyone's curious eyes still on me, but I kept mine away. On the ground, or on the target.

+

**_Third Person P.O.V:_ **

"I was thinking," Dale started, following Shane's heavy footfalls. "You've got that nice new ride of yours, plenty of fuel, more than enough to get far from here."

"What, you telling me to leave?"

"I know you've been planning to," Dale raised his eyebrows, wide-eyed, and spitting every syllable right in front of the unhinged cop. "Maybe now is a good time."

Shane grinned at his comments, scoffing and narrowing his dark irises at the old man. Wrinkles appeared beside his eyes. Dale could almost make out his own face in them. "Is this about Andrea?"

"I'm looking out for the group."

"You think the group would be better off without me, Dale?" Their opposing, but solid opinions would be the death of them both. Two forces colliding with each other that would never fit together in a puzzle. "Why don't you tell that to Rick or Lori? Their boy would be dead if I hadn't put my ass on the line."

"And Otis's." There was a brief, and mind-crushing pause. "Marley too."

That turned Shane's expression sour, a the mention of the young woman's name. He turned to leave, briefly catching sight of said woman before being stopped by Dale's voice. To him, it was like nails on a chalkboard.

"You've both been vague about that night," Dale nagged. "About what happened."

Shane stared at the ground like it was the most intriguing thing in the world, but didn't falter his gaze when he spoke. "Otis died a hero."

"So you've said."

"A little boy lived because of what went down that night," he breathed in heavily. "I think you ought to show some gratitude, not just to me, but to Marley too."

"I wasn't there."

"No, man, you weren't."

"But I was the time you raised your gun on Rick."

"Come on. Jesus."

"You had him in your sights and you held him there."

Shane rubbed the back of his head, tired of the old man's words, because as much as he didn't want to believe it, or as much as he denied it. He knew deep down that everything he was saying was the absolute truth.

But in Shane's mind, Dale was always going to be totally, and utterly wrong.

In a hushed voice, Dale spoke again. "I know what kind of man you are."

Shane shook his head, what started out as a nod, turned into defiance. "You think I'd shoot Rick," he whispered, eyeing the man with needle point pupils that could surely kill a human if it were possible. "That is my best friend. That's the man that I love. I love him like he's my brother."

"You think that's the kind of man I am?"

"That's right."

"Well, maybe we out to just think that through." Their voices were so hushed and quick that it was the equivalent to throwing knives at each other, and missing their ears by mere millimetres. "Say I'm the kind of man who'd gun down his own best friend."

Shane wavered on his own two feet, anger and rage brewing up inside him like a poisonous cocktail fit for killing a king.

"What d'you think I'd do to some guy that I don't even like when he starts throwing accusations my way? Marley's way? What do you think?"

Dale's face held utter realisation as he knew exactly what Shane was, and what he could do. He was poking the bear, and only just then did fear set into him. Shane nodded manically at him, a smirk rising on his lips.

"You don't talk to Marley. Touch Marley. Go near Marley, or ask her anything, or I will do something about it," Shane whispered, poitning a finger at Dale's chest.

"She holding your secrets?"

"She holds enough without you badgering to her about a night she doesn't even want to remember."

"She knows what you did, or what you both did?"

"Marley survived, we both survived, Otis's death is on the both of us."

"Maybe I'll go ask her what happened, I'm sure she won't lie."

Shane blocked his way, his chest hard as stone as Dale walked into it.

"I said you ain' going near her," his tone was harsh, and parent-like, despite Dale being a lot older than him. "I swear to God, if you talk to her, it ain' gonna be pretty."

The elder started to become cocky, which was dangerous in the current situation. "I'm not threatened by you, Shane."

Shane had the best answer to that: "The truth is, you are," his smile made the man sick to his stomach. "And not just by me." Shane looked over his shoulder, and Dale followed his gaze to the head of strawberry blonde hair. "You have no idea," he whispered with finality, feeling satisfied at how he made Dale feel - scared.

Dale let out a shaky breathe when Shane walked away, considering the warnings.

From afar he could see her - Marley. He knew she held all the answers, and he knew that it would take less for her to break and tell the truth.

She was sat next to Carl, who had a pencil in hand, solving math problems at the end of the world.

Marley held everything inside her mind, and he had just been told that he could not get them from her.

+

**_Marley's P.O.V:_ **

The sun started to dip into the horizon, and I found myself going back to my tent after helping Carl. I felt sorry for Carl - the fact that he still had homework at the end of the world. And on top of that was the walkers, rationed food, the sweltering heat, and his mother gave him more math problems to do because he lied about taking a gun.

Turns out, it was my gun he had picked; if I could call it my gun. I mean, I did find it.

Ducking in, there was a little light beside Daryl's head. It only illuminated the space in a glowing, ethereal haze. It was calming, especially after that day.

He was doing something I thought I would never see Daryl Dixon doing - he was reading Shakespeare. The book I had gave him.

His eyes flickered up before quickly returning to the pages. He always looked tired due to the bags under his eyes, but he looked especially tired that night. I figured it was just the way shadows were cast on his face. That fact that he didn't say anything added to my hypothesis - not that he usually said a lot.

"Hey," I whispered, trying not to disturb his reading. He didn't seem intrueged enough in it, as he carefully closed it and set it between us.

I had already changed my clothing for the night, not wanting to spend another sleeping faze in regular clothes. I sat back on my legs and looked at him.

"You didn't have to stop reading."

He shrugged, rubbing his palm over his face, then yawning.

I picked up the book. "What page were you on?" I opened it to a random page, picking the first line I could see. "Have you read, ' _False face must hide what false heart doth know_ '."

He made that noise which meant, "I don't know." He obviously wasn't in the talking mood. But I was proven wrong as he finally said something.

"I miss anything?"

I lay down, pulling the sheets closer to my chin, closing my eyes and getting ready for a well-earned sleep. "Not really. Just a load of broken bottles; and in my opinion, wasted bullets."

"Yeah," he agreed.

There was a silence between us, but it was never awkward.

My voice cut through the slightly chilly air as a thought came to mind. "Glenn's hiding something, and you know he's a terrible liar."

"Mmhmm."

"And Glenn never lies to me, and I'm pretty sure Maggie knows with them having sex and all."

A choking sound came from his side, and I almost laughed. I didn't look at him, but I could tell that he wasn't expecting me to say that. He coffed, turning over to face away from me. I guessed that was him done for the night in terms on interaction with people.

"It won't be secret for long, knowing him."

He didn't reply.

"Daryl?"

"Go to sleep, Marley."

I scoffed at his demand but smiled. I reached over and turned off the light, setting us into darkness. It was so quiet, and my mind was racing with so many curiosities I didn't think it would let me sleep.

"Goodnight," I whispered, only hearing Daryl shift slightly.

" _Mmm._ "

That was all I was going to get from him.

 


	41. reaching

**_Marley's P.O.V:_ **

Daryl didn't want to take my chair when we were sitting around the campfire that morning, but I made him take it because I knew how hard it was to get up from the ground when your side was in pain. Initially refusing, it only took me a threat that I would beat his ass if he didn't to get him to sit down.

He looked slightly amused at my comment and I honestly wasn't surprised. Our interaction was followed by a few snickers from the group before everyone settled down.

Carol came over with the pan of eggs and gave Daryl and I some more, having to bend down further to me since I was sat on the ground by his legs.

It was quiet, and the only sound was the scraping of forks and the crackling fire. Every so often I would look around at everyone, secretly assessing them.

Despite it being seemingly peaceful, everyone knew that everyone else were on the edge of their seats.

It all came from the unknowingness, and knowingness, whichever people wanted to choose to feel.

If people chose unknowingness, it would be like a tick or an itch on the back of your neck. Whilst also weighing heavily on your chest.

Knowingness was a lot more peaceful but it wasn't advised and I didn't choose it.

I wasn't going to think for a second that Sophia was dead, or that she was never coming back.

She had to be somewhere.

I felt so selfish because all this time I was worrying about what people thought of me, or what I could prove when there was a twelve-year-old girl lost in the woods that some of us were risking their lives for.

Glenn stood up, looking nervous as hell. An emotion he had on his face these past two days. His handled wrung themselves together, and everyone looked at him expectantly before he spoke.

"Guys," he breathed in. "There's walkers in the barn."

I felt heart stop for a moment, and I'm sure everyone else was experiencing that too. Anyone who wasn't paying attention was now, as everyone stared darkly at Glenn's face.

I was the first to say anything as I stood from my seat on the ground, abandoning my plate of food.

"What..." my wide eyes scanned his as he looked at me worriedly. All eyes were on me. "The hell?"

He tried to form words but if he did I didn't hear them because I was already making my way towards aforementioned, barn. Shouts and yells and panicked discussion took place behind me.

The only one that caught up with me was Shane but he didn't say a word as we both power-walked towards the barn that was surprisingly far away.

+

Peering through the tiny gap between the two doors holding back a mountainous measure of walkers, I jumped back when one of them snapped at me. I held my hand to my heart from the sight of the veiny eyes looking into mine. It breathed in my face, almost making me want to bend over and wretch.

Warm fingers brushed against my lower arm to pull me back further and I didn't look around to see who it was.

"You cannot tell me you're alright with this," Shane said lowly to Rick, glancing at me momentarily.

"No, I'm not, but we're guests here. This isn't our land," Rick replied sternly.

"This is our lives!" Shane shouted, his whole stance was upright like a toy soldier.

"Lower your voice," Glenn hushed, reminding us all that whilst we were discussing this we were discussing it outside a barn full of walkers that constantly growled.

"We can't just sweep this under the rug," Andrea dead.

"She's right," I said. "It's not right, not remotely."

There was a pause as the doors rattled the chains that held them together, obviously the walkers were hungry. And right outside their doorstep was a main course of hopeful people with side-dishes of crazy.

"We've either gotta go in there," Shane started, gaining everyone's attention by going to the front of the group. "We've got to make things right or we've just got to go."

I didn't want to go.

"And where exactly would we go?" I asked, stepping forward and flicking some hair away from my mouth.

He said his hat back on his bald head, breathing out heavily. "We have been talking about Fort Benning for a long time."

"We can't go," Rick interjected, throwing an arm out in front of Shane.

"Why, Rick? Why?"

I felt Carol step beside me, and I saw from the corner of my eye her worried expression. Her arms unravelled from holding herself before she spoke, "Because my daughter's still out there."

I could sense everyone's stomach turn at the mother pining for her daughter's return.

There was always something about hope that made me feel sick.

I could see clearly that Shane was going to say something stupid. He put his hands up to cup his chin and he let out an exasperated sigh. "Okay," he started, looking to Carol. He lowered his hands. "Okay, I think it's time that we all start to just consider the possibil-"

"No, no, no," I interrupted looking into his eyes. "Shut the hell up. We are not leaving her behind."

I knew everyone had their eyes on me.

An angry Daryl stepped beside me, brushing my shoulder with his own. "I'm close to finding this girl," he spat at Shane. "I just found her damn doll a few days ago."

I noticed the way he said 'I'm' instead of 'we'. I could tell he had made a promise of some sorts - maybe even only with himself, that he would find Sophia.

"You founder her doll, Daryl. That's what you did. You found a doll." Shane annunciated.

I rolled my eyes, turning fully to my side so that Daryl could walk forward and get his opinion in. That was I wouldn't fly to the ground if he started throwing punches - but I'd doubt he'd do that, truthfully.

"You don't know what the hell you're talking 'bout!" Daryl yelled, throwing his arm out only to be stopped by Rick's.

Rick was trying to calm the situation down when the only real way to do that was for him to have a discussion with his friend. If I were in his position, I would not have brought the whole group to discuss it. Too many opinions, too many clashing personalities and not enough clarity.

But how could I speak in leading people when I'd have probably driven the group into the ground if I were in charge.

"I'm just saying what needs to be said," Shane yelled louder. Whilst trying to be hushed by his friend, constantly trying to get his word in but there was no stopping Shane's verbal diarrhea. "You get a good lead in the first forty-eight hours."

"Shane, stop!" Rick reached for his shoulder but he only turned around with a smile on his face.

"Let me tell you something else, man." We all cautiously watched the conversation unfold. Anger radiated off Daryl and if looks could kill then Shane would be dead a thousand times over. Everyone watched Shane talk and I kept my eyes on Daryl. Shane was pushing all the right buttons for possible detonation. "If she was alive out there and saw you coming all methed out with your buck knife and geek ears 'round your neck she would run in the other direction!"

"Shut up you stupid cop!" Daryl had enough and lashed out pointing towards Shane angrily. He yelled and Rick tried his best to separate the hunter and the cop who looked happy enough to get his hands on Daryl.

"What are you doing? Don't come at me, man!" Shane pointed at Daryl.

Everyone near sprung into action to try and calm the situation down. Between Shane and Daryl, I honestly wouldn't know who would win. It was all out war and they were throwing words like daggers, but blindly. Either one of them would have landed a good punch to knock one another on their asses if it wasn't for the crowd surrounding them.

To help - in some way - I placed my body between Daryl's and Shane's. This caused Daryl to stop lashing forward and gave Shane a death-stare that said " _keep your fucking hands off._ "

I felt Daryl's body press up against the back of mine for a moment as I stepped backwards, then it was gone and I felt cold.

Shane pointed a finger at Lori, "Don't you touch me."

Rick, forever trying to be the voice of reason. "Just let me talk to Hershel. Let me figure it out."

"What are you going to figure out?" Shane yelled, looking like he was going lash out at his own friend any moment then before Lori placed a hand on his chest and screeched, "Enough!"

"If we're gonna stay, if we're gonna clear this barn, I have to talk him into it. This is his land."

Dale raised his arm in the air to have his say. "Hershel sees those things as people - sick people - his wife, his stepson."

Dale knew - it was that thing about people making decisions for me that was irking - I would have wanted to know I was taking a nap and reading books next to flesh-eating creatures. I was already angry enough at Glenn for keeping that secret and now I had another person to be annoyed with.

"You knew too, Dale?" I questioned, stepping closer. He, for some reason, looked cautiously between Shane and I. Something was off, and it wasn't the smell from the barn.

"Yesterday," he directed at Rick, avoiding my gaze. "I talked to Hershel."

"And you waited the night?" Shane exclaimed.

"I thought we could survive one more night. We did. I was waiting till this morning to say something, but Glenn wanted to be the one."

"That was neither of your decisions to make," I spat, widening my eyes and looking between the two culprits. "If something had gone wrong with... whatever this is, we wouldn't have been prepared - y'know you two aren't exactly fortune tellers."

"Marley, I'm-" Glenn tried to say, but I cut him off. I really didn't want to be angry with him but I couldn't help it.

"Save it," I snapped, turning away from them to face the barn and put my hands on my hips. I scrunched up my face in frustration. It was all just a massive ball of annoying things at that moment.

"It was in our best interest to keep it from you," Dale added.

"Best interest?" I scoffed. "You know nothing." I turned around to face him. "Stop trying to parent everyone!" I all but yelled in his face. An arm came to my chest, stopping me from stepping closer. It was Rick. I looked back to the prison for walkers speaking again; "It's in our best interest to deal with this situation."

"Now, hold on," Rick went to interject again before Shane did.

"The man's crazy, Rick, if he thinks those things are alive or not."

The argument cut slim when the walkers started banging on the doors rather loudly. It almost scared me out of my skin, and I stepped away from it further and further like everyone else around me. We could all hear the faint scratches and gnawing at the wood, some fingernails poking through the gaps like caged animals - that was basically what they were. Keep them in there for any longer and they wouldn't starve they'd maybe just become more desperate and eventually break out. The chains rattled and everyone started to walk away.

Warm fingers grazed my arm again but I shook them off, not bothering to see who it was.

+

"Marley, please, I'm sorry."

I wasn't going to give Glenn the time of day. He was currently trailing after me. Everything inside of me was telling to turn around and forgive him but I was not only sick with him but everyone.

"Marley," he tried again. This time he walked fast enough so that he was in front of me, blocking my path.

"Out of my way, Glenn," I seethed, hands clenched at my sides. As much as I wanted to lay a hand on something... something - it wasn't going to be him.

"I'm just- I'm sorry Marlster," he tried, his words coming out strained as he tried to find words.

"You could have told me."

"I know."

"Something could have happened."

"But it didn't!"

I smiled - not that I meant to. "Yeah, but," I stepped closer to him, trying to find the right words. "We can't live thinking things aren't going to happen."

He dropped his tense shoulders. "You're right."

I still wasn't okay with and wanted to give him a hug just to give him the piece of mind that I wasn't tremendously furious with him, but I decided against it in case I lashed out.

"It's okay Glenn," I whispered, feeling guilty for yelling at him. "You didn- it's fine."

The edges of his lips twitched upwards to give me a small smile but I couldn't return it.

+

I had been blankly staring at the stable for a few moments after Carol caught my eye when she walked in there only moments after Daryl had done so himself.

As was curious as to why they were actually talking to each other and whether Carol ever actually got a good conversation out of hm unlike I had.

If she was then... I was feeling some sort of jealousy and protectiveness.

I know I had denied it before - that he was _my_ Daryl. He wasn't an item but I couldn't help it.

I _really_ couldn't help it.

Curiosity got the better of me and I stopped leaning against the tree and crossing my arms to start walking towards the stable.

I could hear talking when got closer and was about to enter further when I saw Daryl throw a saddle to the ground before clutching his side where his wound still was.

They didn't seem to notice me watching them as Carol asked if he was okay only for him to throw back, "leave me be!"

I watched with wide, shock, and confused eyes when the redneck stormed towards me, muttering something he made sure was loud enough so that Carol could hear - "Stupid bitch."

He brushed past me angrily, and I tried to form words as I glanced hurriedly between where Daryl lead off to and Carol's teary eyes.

I took a breath before following him.

When Daryl was set on going somewhere, you could bet your bottom dollar that he would get there. And that was what he was doing now.

My breathing turned sharp as I tried to keep up with him and call his name at the same time. It wasn't working, and he was only just heading to our tent.

I wasn't going to let him get there, however, as I tried to grab his shoulder only for him to raise his arm up.

I couldn't help but flinch away from him.

And I could tell that he immediately regretted it as he turned towards me and lowered it.

"What did you say that to Carol for?" I asked, not meeting his gaze.

He was now pacing in front of me. "Says, 'we don't know if we're gonna' find her' and 'I can't lose you too'," he spat as if everything he said was disgusting. "What a bunch o' bullshit."

"Bullshit?" I almost laugh, now looking into his blue eyes with my green ones. "That _bullshit_ is actually true."

"What?"

"Daryl look at me."

"Why? Why the he-"

"Just," I firmly grasped his shoulders, so that he would stop pacing and he could look nowhere else but my face. "Look at me," I whispered, as his eyes darted around in annoyance and he looked incredibly tense under my grasp.

"The truth is that we can't lose you."

"That a bunch o' crap, ain' nobody wanting me for anythin' but being their errand boy!" He squirmed away from me, and stood square shouldered with me.

"Look at me."

"I am, Marley. Goddamnit woman, what?"

"No, you're not actually looking at me," I stepped so my face was directly in front of his. "Now, _really_ look at me."

He went to go say something else but it was obviously sucked back into his throat, he did what I told him to do. His beady eyes stared into mine for a moment, and I felt utterly too close to him for us both being stood in the middle of the field..

"See _this,"_ I gestured to my face. " _This_ person cares, and no matter how much you don't believe that someone can ever care about you, you will never - you understand me? - ever think that I don't."

"It's quite frankly an insult after all we've been through."

I could see the gears turning in his head, nd I liked it when he did that. Although it was quite unhealthy for someone to keep all their thoughts to themselves but Daryl had a certain look on his face when he did it and I quite liked the look of it - it was... interesting.

Words were meagre things when you had to describe someone you... _never mind._

I took my hands and brushed down the front of his shirt, slightly regretting it since he was extremely sweaty but I didn't have much to say since I probably looked as run down as he did.

"Just," I started, huffing out a breath and licking my lips. "Basically, uh? Just... when-when you go out and risk your life - by maybe falling off a horse - just remember the fact that. No, what I mean is you can't just run off and risk your life because you may be thinking about other people's needs when you're doing it but you're not thinking about the repercussions."

"So I ain' allowed to go out and look for Sophia without your say?"

"Basically," I furrowed my brows. "I thought we were supposed to be looking after each other?"

I let out a breath, and it almost sounded like a laugh. "So you're just looking out for me?" He tilted his head as he flicked some hair away from his face.

I couldn't help but smile slightly. "Why d'you always answer my questions with another question?"

He gave a lighthearted shrug, before hesitantly turning and walking away.

I watched as he walked away, back to our camp. But before he could be out of hearing distance I yelled over to him, cupping my hands over my mouth. "And Daryl?"

"Yeah?"

i ran after him, to get a bit closer, and when I was close enough. Out of breath slightly, I pointed at him. "You have to apologise to Carol. No getting out of it."

He looked worried.

"Don't worry just... by my own experience, to be honest, no girl really likes being called a _'stupid bitch'_."

He nibbled on his bottom lip, bringing his hand up to his head to scratch the side of it - right where his stitches were.

"Don't," I slapped his hand away. "Don't touch your stitches, and apologise to Carol. Right?" I held up two digits. He grabbed that hand for a moment and shook it.

"Yes, ma'am," he replied dutifully, before continuing his journey to our camp.

+

I sat on the hood of the car, my back pressed against the front window and my knees curled up into my chest. started playing with the skin around my eyes, pressing it and pinching to see how much it hurt. All of my wounds had healed, but my face still held a purple splotchinesss around one of my eyes.

Glenn had wanted me to sit on top of the RV with him, but I just couldn't. I didn't really want to.

"S'up?" Glenn said - probably to someone.

After a few more moments, and Glenn talking to someone a hand rested on my shoulder and slid off the hood in fright.

"Marley, wake up," Shane said quietly. "Where did Dale go?"

"What?"

"Dale took the guns. Where did he go?"

"I don't know."

"Come on," he ushered, gently grabbing my elbow so that would follow him. I gave Glenn a quick glance over my shoulder.

"What's going on," whispered when we were out of earshot from, well anyone.

"Dale, huh, he took the guns cause he thinks it's for the best."

"But it's not."

"You got that right."

"Anything else?"

We kept walking but he looked straight at me as we started to descend into the trees.

"He suspects we did something that night," he coughed. "Mostly just me, but I told him not to talk to you."

"Does he know anything else?" I stopped in my tracks, flicking some hair away from eyes. He stopped too, his hands on his hips.

"Just that we're both threats - to him."

"Ah, hence-"

"Exactly."

Dale was not going to make another decision for me.

+

"Man, this is a good hiding place," Shane announced, making the older man turnaround and look at us.

I had helped Shane with my beginner's class of tracking skills to track down where Dale was going to hide the guns. Looks like he wasn't going to do that after all.

"We ain' been in the swamps much, huh?"

Dale sighed, disappointed, hurt. He started to stuff the remainder of the bag in a garbage one.

As Shane and I started to approach him, I had to hold the sleeve of Shane's shirt to steady myself.

"Imagine if you applied your tracking skills to finding Sophia."

I was about to lunge for him and give him my own piece of mind, but Shane clasped his hand over the one on his sleeve.

"How about," Shane suggested, and then we were in front of Dale, having to duck under a few branches in the process. I had gotten used to walking thorugh places like these, so there was no falling on the ground here. "You just give us that bag, huh?"

"I'm not gonna do that."

"Oh, do please," I added. It was slightly fun to treat Dale like a child. "Unless you really don't want to, then all you have to do is just get that rifle off your shoulder and..."

"You gonna shoot me like you two shot Otis? Tell another story?"

"You can pick whether it was heroic death or a pathetic one, Dale."

Shane chuckled from beside me, "No, man."

There was a moment when the two opposing forces stood silently between us. I could tell, that what I had said, Dale did not expect at all. I hardly expected it myself, but I tore the filter down when people started making decisions for me, again.

"Please," Dale begged, his hands praying towards me. "Please, Marley."

I took a sharp intake of breath. " _'Please, Marley'_ , what?"

He actually looked like he was going to cry. "Please don't let him do this to you."

I cocked my head to the side. Shane was not doing this to me, it was all my own doing because _I_ let it happen.

"Please don't become like him. Where's the Marley back in the quarry who looked after Carl, and drew people's portraits when they were sad?"

"She's not gone," I whispered. "She's not buried either, you know. You're talking to the exact same person."

His eyes widened, and he looked scared. He actually looked scared.

"And I'd much rather end up like Shane, rather than you because if you look at it the right way-"

He looked between Shane and, now getting angry.

"-sweetheart, you're pretty much dead already."

The afformentioned man laid his hand on my shoulder and used the other to lure Dale towards him - like a man awaiting a tip. "Just give us the guns, do it now."

"You think this is gonna keep us safe?"

"Mm-hmm, I know it is."

"Rick is trying to get Hershel--"

"Dale, shut up. Just shut up and give me the guns."

The elder lay down the bag of guns and, and grabbed hold of his rifle - loading it. I stiffened at the sound but tried to not let it show on my face. I had faced that sound many times before and it wasn't going to make crumble just then.

"Am I gonna have to shoot you?" he warned, raising his eyebrows. "Do I have to kill you if that's what it takes?"

Both Shane and I harmoniously let out a short chuckle.

When he went to approach the elder, Dale didn't hesistate to bring his gun to his shoulder and point it straight through Shane's chest. If he was to shoot then, Shane was definitely done for - then there was me on the side.

Shane hesitated walking forward but ended up confidently with the barrel of the gun pressed firmly between his ribcage. "Yeah, that's what it's gonna take."

Sudden realisation, all a little too late, echoes off Dale's face. He realised who we were. He held nothing but pity in his eyes ad he lowered the gun.

"This is where you belong, Shane."

"How's that, Dale?" Shane challenged, narrowing his eyes momentarily.

"This world, what it is now, this is where you belong." Then he looked to me. "And you dragged her down with you."

I scoffed, I was perfectly capable of doing this myself and who I was, was the perfect example.

"And I may not have what it takes to last for long, but that's okay." He knelt down and picked up the bag and I felt a sense of achievement soar through me. "'Cause at least I can say when the world goes to shit I didn't let it take me down with it." He shoved the guns into Shane's arms.

He hooked it under his arm, already starting to walk away.

He left Dale breathing heavily, and as I passed him I gave him one last glance and sentence; "The world was already shit, in my opinion."


	42. sophia

_**Marley's P.O.V:** _

Shane stopped just at the break of trees, setting the bag on the ground so he could rummage through it. There was some rattling before he brought his hand away and offered me something.

My two guns. Two guns - I thought I'd lost one. Complete within their peeling holster.

"I dropped-- how?"

"You didn't drop it, I took it - I dropped mine," he admitted, standing up and hooking the bag over his shoulder so he could keep walking.

"Wait!" I called after him, having to walk at a fast pace to keep up wth his long strides. "What do you mean, you took it?"

"I mean that, ah, I dropped mine so I took one of yours - it wasn't a big deal."

Then something hit me. A realisation. I looked down to my hands to look at the gun, turning it over to inspect it.

"This," I swallowed. " _This_ is the gun you killed Otis with." I didn't ask, I knew. I _knew_ that the gun I held then was responsible for what happened.

If I hadn't brought my guns - maybe Shane wouldn't have the chance to use it? I wasn't sure.

I didn't feel bad, though. Not anymore; I had somehow moved on. The somehow being really unsure. Maybe if I were able to step back and look at my own self I could decipher exactly what was going on.

After a few moments, he finally answered my initial question; "We're gonna take the barn."

"Take the barn? Bu--but we need to be less extravagent with that."

"This is about strategy, thinking ahead."

"This would be strategy if it were more clever. We have to try and be clever."

"We don't have time to try and be clever, we have to be clever, now."

That made sense - thinking ahead was thinking now, in a sense. So I strapped the holster on myself, on top of my clothes for everyone to see clearly. There was no hiding it.

Soon enough, we walked far enough so that we could see the rest of thr group huddle around the front of the house. Daryl had thrown his arm in the air, exclaiming something I couldn't understand. Then he turned and spotted both Shane and I strutting towards them all. The bag of guns over Shane's shoulder kept knocking against my side, and it was started to tick me off.

Shane tore a large shotgun from the bag and handed it to me. He muttered under his breath, "Give that to him." I knew he was talking about the hunter who was making his own way over to us.

"What's all this?" Daryl pointed to us.

When he got close enough, I pushed the gun towards him.

"You with us, man?" Shane asked, waiting for him to grab it. When Daryl did he proceeded to hand out even more guns.

Even though I did agree that we needed to get rid of the problem, the barn full of walkers, I did feel nervous. I couldn't help it and I think it was mainly because I had a gun in my hands again. Having a gun in my hand gave me nervous itch on the back of my hand and the only way to scratch was to pull the trigger. But not if it wasn't pointed at something, anything.

And the thing was that I wanted to say - having these guns out and taking that barn was a one-way ticket away from the farm.

I just couldn't bring myself to think, _"Don't do this, it'll make you be out there again."_

"Time to grow up," Shane ordered. "You already got yours?"

"Yeah. Where's Dale?" Andrea inquired.

"He's on his way," I assured, hiding the poison in my voice at the mention of the man.

This time, I sunk my own hand into the bag and handed the next gun to T-Dog. "I thought we couldn't carry?"

"Well, we can now," I smiled, pushing it towards him so he would actually grab it off me.

Shane faced the entire group, some on the porch. "We can and we have to," he bellowed. "Look, it was one thing sitting around here picking daisies when we thought this place was supposed to be safe, but now we know it ain't."

He stalked towards Glenn, who had been keeping his eye on me. He had a look of disbelief on his face as much as everyone did. The stare that burnt the most was Carl's - he had obviously never seen me this way.

Glenn also took the gun then he turned to Maggie. "Can you shoot?"

"Can you stop?" she fired back immediately. There was a storm in her eyes. "You do this, you hand out these guns, my dad will make you leave tonight."

I stepped beside Shane, getting close to him. "Shane, she has a point."

He narrowed his eyes at me. "Well, there's no point staying here with those things in the barn."

Carl strode down the steps, "Marley, we have to stay." He looked up to me with those innocent eyes that made my heart ache because he hadn't seen me in ages. And when he finally saw me again I was ready to ruin his chance of having a home.

"I know, young sir, but we have to do this." My voice wavered like they weren't my own words.

Lori appeared from the house, walking fast towards us.

Shane started speaking from behind me whilst I kept my eyes on Carl. "Now look, Hershel, he's just gotta understand."

"Shane, I don't know about this?" I finally felt unsure - my mind was being pulled in all directions. One way was toward a more peaceful resolution and the other voice in my head was telling me to take everything down in the farm - to burn down that barn with the walkers inside no matter who or what Hershel thought they were. The trouble was deciding which one to listen to.

Everyone but one person had judging eyes - he didn't. Whilst Shane ignored my bleak comment, I looked over to Daryl. His eyes were small, watching me pace on the spot with the shotgun I had handed to him hanging lazily over his right shoulder.

He was just waiting. Waiting whilst I tried to call for silent help.

_'Tell me what to do_ _'_

Lori pushed Shane away from Carl, who had been trying to give him a gun.

"Oh shit," T-Dog exclaimed, making all of us look to him and then to what he was looking at.

Rick, Hershel, and Jimmy were emerging from the forest with poles. On the end of those poles were-- were...

Walkers.

_'Burn it down.'_

_'The walkers are dangerous, take them all now.'_

"What is that?" Shane growled, dropping everything and started running towards the barn. Every single one of us followed, and I ran in line with Daryl, but soon I was taking over him. I backed up slightly to stay behind him.

"What the hell are you doing?" Shane yelled to his partner, who was struggling with the walker on the end of the pole. It looked like he was leading a vicious dog to the kennels, which was actually an accurate comparison.

Daryl with his gun in his arms immediately aimed it at the walker Rick held.

"Shane, just back off," Rick yelled back. Everything was becoming heated, and my hands started sweating, my chest heaving from running and the holster weighing on my ribs.

"Why do your people have guns?" Hershel asked, looking at the growing crowd in anger and confusion.

"Are you kidding me? You see? You see what you're holding onto?" Shane demanded of Hershel. He circled the walker-leaders, angrily. He looked towards me expectadly, thinking I would say something to back him up but I got lost for words.

"No, man, you don't," he huffed, turning away from me.

I wanted to calm down the situation, but Rick beat me to it. "Shane, just let us do this, and then we can talk."

"What you want to talk about, Rick? These things ain't sick. They're not people. They're dead. Ain't gotta feel nothing for them 'cause all they do is kill! These things right here, they're the things that killed Amy. They killed Otis. They're gonna kill all of us."

"Shane, shut up!" Rick tried, but no one could get through to him.

The man only continued, now stood on one spot but fumbling with his gun.

"Hey, Hershel, man, let me ask you something. Could a living breathing person, could they walk away from this?" With one hand, he lifted the gun to point at the walker Hershel was handling, then shot three times. I ducked to the right, putting my hands over my head as I scurried to be behind Daryl.

"Shane, stop it!" I screeched.

"That's three rounds to the chest. Could someone who's alive, could they just take that?" He lifted a finger to point. "Why is it still coming?"

He shot two more times.

I knew, I knew that sudden emergence into a situation could be dangerous. Things like the world we were in, you couldn't just jump in without coming out on the other side with some major damage. You had to be eased in, and Shane was doing the exact opposite.

"That's its heart, its lungs. Why is it still coming?"

"Shane, enough!" Rick bellowed.

"Stop, not like this!" I kept screaming, but he ignored me as he started to approach Hershel and the walker.

Just before he shot, he said; "Yeah, you're right, man. That is enough." He shot the walker up close, silencing it and all of our cries for Shane to stop. Hershel fell to his knees as the walker fell to its front on the ground.

I stepped closer to Daryl.

Shane didn't take long to open his mouth again. "Enough risking our lives for a little girl who's gone! Enough living next to a barn full of things that are trying to kill us. Enough!"

He eyed his best friend, with beady and deadly eyes.

I could feel my heart beating out of my chest and my hand shakingly reached for one of my guns. I could hardly hear anything besides my sporadic breathing, and the other walker's growls. The dust scraping under all of our feet, the rattle of bony fingers on wood.

"Rick, it ain't like it was before!"

_'Truth'_

"Now if y'all wanna live, you gotta fight for it! I'm talking 'bout fighting right here, right now." He backed up then turned around to face the barn. 

All while Rick was screaming for Hershel to take the snare pole, he simply stared off into space. An angry and resentful look on his face.

Whereas I stood there. I did not move because I didn't know what to do. As the barn door was opened and people took their places to help, the gun in my hand became heavy and with an almighty thud, it fell to the ground. My hands curled into fists as the first gunshot rang out. The walkers ran out - women, men, strangers, family. I did not know who they were but did not care. I didn't join the group to take them down - I didn't know what to do.

My breathing was erratic as the others yelled in frustration and Rick ordered his family to stay back.

I did not know what the hell to do. 

The last walker dropped, and I tried everything to calm down my breathing. It came to a point where my vision was turning blurry, and everyone around me was mere fuzzy figures. My nails dug into my palms, and I could already feel the blood dripping down my fingers. I bit the inside of my cheek, as everyone tore their guns down and simply stood. 

Beth was crying behind me, and I was close myself.

There was a fog of chaos still hanging in the air, everyone glued to their spots with mixed emotions and shaken shoulders - either from firing a gun or mourning.

I could hear my heart in my ears, and my eyes burned. I wasn't that I was upset that Shane had taken the barn, it was that I let myself be controlled again. All those words that felt foreign because they were not mine made my tongue taste of iron. It was overwhelming, and it was too much.

My heart beating.

My heavy breathing.

Then small growls, I could only describe as a child walker.

Amongst the fallen bodies and bloodied hay, coming from the darkness behind the two barn doors... Was her.

All this time. All, this time, she had been there.

Her whited eyes blinked in  the sunlight - the sunlight which showed off her dried wound attached to her left shoulder.

Her rainbow shirt was stained, covering her discoloured and skinny limbs.

Now I had something to really be upset about.

Everyone recognised her, and the Greene family only had to guess because the mother cried and called into the air for her dead daughter. I heard the mother run from behind me and turned just in time to catch the woman before she reunited with a gone girl. Carol tried to get away from me, reaching forward but we both fell to the ground with my arm securely wrapped around her small waist.

Every time she called her daughters name I felt like I couldn't breathe.

I felt like this was all my fault, somehow.

I was not there when Sophia ran off, I was not there when Daryl fell down a ravine looking for her, I was not there with carol every time of day to help her keep hope alive - and I felt like it was my fault that Sophia was grabbed by the worlds dominating grasp.

I spotted rick look up from the ground, as a blanket of dark despair and grief washed over everyone.

Carol kept crying and trying to reach out to her daughter.

Rick assumed his role as the leader, his features turning hard as he approached the girl tiptoeing her way towards us. His gun clicked and he raised it, pointing where he needed to shoot.

Carol squirmed from me, but I didn't let her go. My vise like grip being powered by frustration and sorrow.

Sophia's glassy and somehow soulful eyes took one last look at the sheriff's deputy before a single shot rang out and she fell to the ground.

_"_ _I know we'll find her," I whispered. "Sophia just doesn't get lost."_

_"Not her."_

_"Maybe," Carol sobbed quietly._

_"No," I said. "The world doesn't get to have her."_

_"It didn't get Carl, it didn't get me."_

_"I won't let it."_

But I did. Oh boy, did I.

Carol finally gave up and let herself fall to the ground. It was over - that was how Sophia ended.

Carol kept looking at the body, and tears streamed down her face as her voice became hoarse and her cries became jaded.

Another pair of arms wrapped around her shoulders.

"Don't look. Don't look," Daryl repeated, lifting the woman to stand on her feet and leaving me on the ground.

I sniffed inwards, trying to somehow suck back any tears that had fallen down my cheeks.

There was a struggle as carol fought herself away from Daryl, before running away in the direction of the house.

The ground was what I was looking at before a hand came into view. Daryl offered it to me, expecting that I wanted to take it and be lifted up so I wouldn't be around this horrific setting.

I turned away instead.

I got up by myself, not looking at him as I made my way past a crying Carl and Lori. I didn't turn back even when Beth's frantic cries echoed out, and everyone rushed to her aid.

+

Looking at the book, it didn't matter. Doing this book and collecting things, and drawing things in it didn't fucking matter at all.

Every decision I made was a mistake, and I never followed through on half of them.

I was sat at my camp, far away from everyone else - so I started ripping.

I started ripping, and tearing, and throwing the pages of a book that only highlighted how fucking messed up I was. It held words of a victim and a murderer. The murdered and the arsonist. The abandoned and abandoner. The child and the sinner.

I tried... Oh boy, how I tried to be in control.

_"That is how you end."_

He was stood there, calm as ever. He looked the same, except this time a bit more alive. It sent a lump to my throat, in fear that he was actually there.

"What?" I sobbed, my whole body shaking even though it wasn't cold, even the slightest.

 _"That is how you end,"_ he repeated, stepping towards me. _"You get lost."_

_"Just like her, you get lost and never get found again."_

I rubbed both my eyes, hoping that when I opened them back up he wouldn't be there. He only came out more clear, and this time smiling.

"What do you-- you cant know that!"

He was gone. Just like that, he was gone.

He had vanished.

Where the fuck was he?

"Jimmy, stop torturing me!" I screamed. "Stop, please stop. I can't anymore, please!"

I fell to the ground with my hands in my hair, pulling on the locks and possibly bringing blood to my scalp. I landed amongst the pieces of paper.

I felt like I was in a whirlwind, I couldn't breathe. I held a fist to my chest.

"I need mama," I cried. What made me feel sick was that that was what Sophia probably cried every night. That was probably Sophia's mantra for the last five days. "I need Victor."

"Where the fuck is Victor?"

My nails scraped into the dirt as I cried harder and harder and harder so much so that I felt like my brain was going to explode.

I brought my wrist to my teeth and bit down, hard. I growled from deep within, hoping to hurt and scare myself, hoping to punish myself for the lack of good I had done.

I tasted red but still kept pressure. Then I looked at it, my skin already turning purple.

I just kept crying, and sobbing, and whimpering like a fucking baby.

I forced my ribs to stop moving so fast, I forced my eyes open and stop spilling tears. I forced myself to stop being a wimp and wiped away the blood on my wrist and palms.

For a while I just stayed there, looking at nothing in particular. My hands tucked up to my chest, shaking.

_"What you do doesn't matter anymore."_

I squeezed my eyes shut.

_"You may as well just give up."_

+

**_Third Person P.O.V:_ **

Rick approached the door, kicking it right at the bottom with the toe of his shoe. Glenn stayed glued to his side looking up and down the street one last time, just for safety.

They saw Hershel first, his back to them. His shoulders were hunched over the half-finished drink in front of him.

If the bar was cleaner, less ransacked and had a barman, Hershel wouldn't have looked out of place at all. Instead, there he was, being approached by two armed men. For all Hershel knew, the two men behind him were strangers, and would gladly shoot him for the half-good whisky coated on his lips.

But lucky for him, it was only Rick and Glenn.

"Hershel." Rick's voice echoed across the peeling walls, the room was slightly bare.

Hershel glanced at the door leading to the back, then to the amber liquid that circled his glass. It was all too tempting, and what he had just witnessed only tempted the old man more.

"Who's with you?" he asked.

"Glenn."

Rick looked to his friend before approaching Hershel further, laying his gun neatly in his holster.

"Maggie send him?"

"He volunteered. He's good like that."

Hershel leaned to look over his shoulder, careful not to tip his drink.

Amongst the messy row of chairs, Rick's lean body manoeuvred himself to the back of the bar, to Hershel.

Looking at the walls to photos, and memorabilia. All that life was gone and every time he was reminded of that he felt nauseous. Like he was somehow going to be thrown into the photo and brought back into his coma. Rick still hadn't had that long to readjust since coming out of a coma.

Hershel lifted the drink to his lips as Rick met him to his left.

Rick placed a steady hand on the bar. "How many have you had?"

"Not enough." He paused, lifting his eyebrows and looking to the door again - the one that lead to the back.

Where all the extra alcohol supposedly was.

"She's had a lot more."

Rick had no idea who _she_ was. So he asked. "She?"

Hershel simply pointed to the darkness, and Rick had the opportunity to tune his ears to the sounds around him.

Clanks and shuffling came from the doorway, followed by some coughs and small giggles.

Glenn became curious too, and they were both about to step forward and investigate. But the mystery person made themselves known.

The head of strawberry blonde locks swiftly spun themselves round, almost looking like they were doing some sort of dance.

Her arms surrounding about five different coloured bottles. The scratches and bruises and blood that stained her contrasted against her natural pailness, then contrasting with the shadows around her.

She did have a small smile on her lips before she spotted who was looking at her.

Two pairs of eyes filled with shock and slight pity. The third with indifference.

She stuck her lip out, ducking her head down in embarrassment. "Oh no."

Her tired and bloodshot eyes looked directly to rick.

"Jimmy doesn't like it when I drink."

 


	43. happy

_**Marley's P.O.V:** _

The last time I drank, I must have done some awful things. The repercussions were painted on three people's faces, and I hated that I couldn't remember what I had done wrong. To be entirely honest, I still didn't fully understand. I remember that last time I had gotten drunk - back at the CDC - it was just because I could. The moment was opportune and I took it.

This time, it was all that had happened. All I had done.

Wouldn't you just like to not remember everything, even if it was for a few moments? Even if when you came around again, the headache would be almost unreal and your stomach would burn.

So when I saw Hershel getting into a car, with no one else around in sight, I asked what he was doing.

"Going for a drink," he said simply, the tone of his voice was dull and flat and much less kind than when we had first met him.

Without thinking about it fully, I asked if I could join him and he didn't seem to think fully either when he nodded, yes. Hershel drove us away from the farm, away from prying eyes and curious ears so that spirits could spill truth onto our tongues and blur our eyes away from the horrors of every day. The liquid gave me a false sense of comfort. It's what I would imagine being hugged by a ghost would feel like.

So there we sat, on opposite sides of the bar, amongst broken glass and clouded mason jars, contemplating living whilst we were slowly killing our livers and brains. Hershel had opted to slowly drink his second glass of-- whatever the hell it was. Whilst I had already downed six shots of something else. It tasted horrible, the kind that made you cry out in discomfort as it felt like cleaning substance was being forced down your throat.

I was already feeling the effects, as I ran my finger across the wet lip of the almost empty bottle.

Hershel was silent, and I could already see the tears brimming his eyes.

"I thought that drink made you happy?" I slurred, my head lolling to the side and dropping to lay on my arms in front of me. My eyes hurt and so I shielded them from the lights that peeked through the shutters on the windows.

"Only the lucky ones get to be happy," he rasped, the drink making his voice more scratchy.

"That's sad, Hershey." I looked to him and he wasn't smiling. I giggled at the name I had given him. "Hershey. Hershey bar. Hershey in a bar. Hershey chocolate bar in a bar."

He didn't answer me. I don't blame him. Who would answer a rambling twenty-year-old girl, who had no advice to give him, only anecdotes.

"You seem happy?" he said, consuming more of his drink.

I frowned in confusion, shaking my head even if it felt like marbles were rattling inside of my head. "I don't know really." I filled my shot glass up again. "Maybe I should drink a little more."

Neither of us said stuff for a while before my mind got curious.

"Who di-i-i-id you lovey in the barn," I whispered, my chapped lips grazing the lip of my glass. I had bitten into it hard, resulting with alcohol burning the wound, stinging, and adding to the cloud floating over my head. "Imeanwehadsophia."

Hershel let out a long huff before speaking. "My wife and stepson."

"I love wives," I blurted out, without a filter. "Wives are grrreat. I would love one."

The old man chuckled at my state, seemingly being brought out if his disparity for a second before descending back into it. He lifted the bottle to add more sour poison, to his already empty glass.

My mind took a moment to scrape the barrel of memories I was slowly forgetting as I drank more. "I had a child once," I breathed, my forehead creasing in mourning. It was the truth. "Tech-kkk-nilly, I never haaad the baby but -- yaknow."

I shrugged my shoulders, and even though I wasn't sober, I watched Hershel's reaction and he was slowly becoming curious.

"What happened?" He was now beginning, finally, to sound drunk. "How old are you?"

"I'm twenty. Two-Oh-- no wait... Yeah," I rubbed my eyes furiously. "And, it happened a while ago."

"It was not... Pretty," I winced at the subject. My voice didn't shake with my next words. "It was one of the worst experienced of my life." I looked up and saw that face. That face everyone always gives you when you give them an excuse to pity you.

It was universal, everyone made the same expression and I had seen it around a million times. My whole entire existence was a pity party, mixed with devastation and intoxicating sin. Being dragged behind me was the bodies of those who had risked their life by knowing me. Pity is cruel. Pity destroys you. I definitely didn't need it.

I decided to not lash out, but instead focus on something else. That something else being a stray hat to my left. It looked extremely weird to me, and my mind was playing tricks. My mouth formed words before I thought about it. "What you looking at, Donald Duck?"

Hershel snorted, his drink spilling over his chin. I couldn't help but laugh out loud, in turn making my own drink spill on me and down my chest, soaking my shirt and staining it with the smell. My limp wrists carried my fingers to try and wipe it away.

"Oh... blish!"

"Blish?"

"I can't swear-- he doesn't like that," I leaned forward and whispered, bringing a finger to my lips. "He wouldn't like you." I started to bite at the skin around my nails.

Hershel closed his eyes for a moment, before asking, "Who?"

I looked to my left and right, making sure he wasn't there. I was pretty sure he wasn't there. I was pretty sure he wasn't there. I didn't want him to be there. I didn't want him to be there.

I brought Hershel closer, slightly tugging on his sleeve. In the process, a mason jar fell onto the ground and smashed, and I felt the shards bounce up against my ankles. I didn't do anything to stop it. Instead I let it cut at my exposed skin. It wasn't major, but the alcohol dulled my senses to an extent to which I didn't care.

"His name is Jimmy Blake," I said, as quietly as I could in case calling out his name would somehow conjure him from the shadows. "And he was that poor baby's father."

That curious look in his eyes appeared again.

"He took, and took, and took what he wanted from me and I let him do it because I wanted him to."

I swallowed heavily, sitting back in my stool and realising the old man.

"I wanted to feel a different kind of pain. Something other than excruciating so I let him do whatever he wanted."

"He was the puppeteer, and I was the puppet." I lifted my wrists into the air, imitating that of a marinate doll. "Marley, dear, don't leave your apartment for two fucking weeks." I made my voice low and deep, gravelly even - to mock my dead ex-boyfriend. "Eat this. Wear this. Medicine cost money, so go through your fucking withdrawal by yourself."

I stood up from my stool abruptly, causing it to topple to the ground and crash against my achilles. In frustration, I kicked it away as I hissed painfully. I took my slightly bleeding lips between my teeth.

"Stay in the car! Stay in the car! Stay in the car! Stay in the car! Stay in the car!" I screeched at the top of my lungs, scratching them raw and almost making my lungs bleed.

Surprisingly, Hershel was still sitting there, looking completely indifferent to what was going on around him. Like I wasn't even there. But finally he spoke, his voice wavering drunkenly. "I have no idea what you are talking about."

Swinging my arm, I caught the nearly empty bottle of my drink and swung it to the wall. The glass bottle passed a few rows of chairs, before meeting the shelves and sending ripple of shattering sounds across the room. Bouncing off the picture frames, the tables and pillars. Amongst those noises, I covered my ears for a moment. The sound was painful to my eardrums.

" _Careful there,_ " another voice sounded. A voice that disagreed with my stomach and heart. It almost made me want to vomit. " _Don't wanna scratch that pretty face of yours._ "

The man in the suit had planted himself on one of the bar stools. Except, this time, it was different. His suit wasn't dusty, and his hair wasn't tangled with congealed blood. He didn't have a bullet hole, and his eyes were not dark.

He looked alive.

"Hershel, do you see him?" I asked hastily. The elder turned in his seat to where I was looking, then back to his drink.

"Nope."

I sighed in frustration, bringing a hand to my hair. Tears started to well up in my eyes, making them itch and burn painfully.

Maybe if I stabbed them out, it would give me more peace.

I took steps towards him, and he looked me up and down, analysing the way I walked, the way I looked at him. It was like he had somehow cracked open my skull, and all my thoughts were spilled out in front of him.

My ankles gave way at some point, the alcohol still very much coursing through my veins.

In time I caught myself, my nails almost bending as I gripped the bar. I groaned as I pulled myself forward, sitting behind the bar and in front of Jimmy.

His eyes were not dark. They were like caramel, and they looked so much younger.

" _You're looking at my eyes_."

With that, I looked down, to my knitted fingers. They had blood on them, it surrounding deep cuts and red grazes.

His own crept forward, hovering over my knuckles.

" _You want the pain to go away,_ " he leaned in and whispered. His nose brushed against my cheek, creating goosebumps there. " _The excruciating kind."_

I didn't say a word as he took a lock of my hair and twisted it between the pads if his fingers.

"But I haven't lost anyone," I whispered.

" _This isn't from losing someone this is from coming to terms with the monster you are._ "

He pecked my cheek, momentarily, and I let him do it. "Will I always be in pain?" I asked warily, licking my lips and looking to his eyes once again. "I don't wanna live if I'm in pain like this."

He reeled back into his chair, trailing a finger around the edge of the glass, creating a soft humming sound.

" _Unfortunately, Marley, being a monster isn't ever pleasant unless you aren't aware._ "

" _Monsters like us... it's the sad truth of the world but us monsters belong on the earth. We are the personification of 'regression to the mean'. We can't be all good, and we can't be all bad._ "

He lifted his wrist from the bar, checking his watch on his wrist. It was broken but he seemed to be able to read it.

" _I'll have to be going soon,_ " he let out a heavy sigh, downing the sliver of drink at the bottom of his glass. He coughed, twisting his cuffs the right way.

" _But I must tell you this, Marley, the way us monsters live is fallible. It isn't wrong. We bring balance._ "

" _Whatever love we feel, as perverse or fake as it may be, even when we hurt the ones we love, it is real._ "

" _It's a sad truth of how everyone lives, but love can come in many forms, even the sickest._ "

"Are you trying to tell me that you loved me?"

" _I did."_

"Love doesn't include taking my innocence unwillingly."

He smiled. He fucking smiled.

" _You truly are my own Frankenstein, Marley Van Allan._ "

I shook my head. "The love that you describe is not love. It's called having severe issues."

" _You can talk._ "

"Oh I fucking can, and I will. Jimmy Blake may have loved me once, but after I gave him the chance to take control over a human, he abused it. Like a child. That means it was never real love. It was a childhood crush turned maniacal control-freak. I don't doubt I'm a monster, but Jimmy Blake was much worse. I know love. Love has to be equel to be real. You are dead and I may care a little but I am so fucking relieved."

This time, he laughed. He brought a fist to his stomach, clutching it like he was dying of laughter.

" _If you think you're so clever and aware, then wake up._ "

"What?"

He grabbed my cheeks in his large hands, encompassing the lower half of my fave within his hold. He leaned forward, pulling me towards him making my neck strain and ache. He tried leaning back, but he only pulled me more. I squirmed under his grip, making a small noise of discontent.

He took a moment, grinning from ear to ear, and staring into my green eyes with his burning caramel ones.

" _Wake up,_ " he whispered, so quietly that if I hadn't been paying attention then I wouldn't have heard it. " _Wake up._ "

Then, abruptly, he leaned forward and pressed his lips to mine. It was foreign and entirely cold.

All whilst he was molding and maeuvering his lips over mine, my eyes started streaming with tears. His teeth gripped my lower lip, sucking on it and biting down hard enouhh to draw blood. His grip on my jaw became more fierce, as he tried to pin me down.

I didn't want this. I didn't want this.

All I could taste was alcohol and decaying sanity.

This isn't real.

This isn't real.

This isn't real.

As he started to move away from my lips, trailing anywhere he wanted I managed to pull back.

With the strongest feat of strength I could muster, I swung my hand forwards. It hit his cheek, and I could feel how hard his bones were under my palm.

Just as fast, he swung his own, catching my cheek and sending my neck to the side. It was so forceful, that I toppled to my right.

Then something was in my way. Something that wasn't there before. The stool to which I sat on, which was supposed to be over by Hershel. A pain in my collarbone erupted as I went straight to the ground, my legs tangling up with the chairs.

I let out a "oof" sound when I had finally stopped moving, and realised I that this definitely wasn't the place I was supposed to fall. I looked down my body and saw where thought I had been standing.

"Marley?" Hershel's voice sounded, coughing. "Are you okay?"

I sighed heavily, lifting my body up as best as I could and sat back on my stool. I looked around, realising that Jimmy was gone and he never was there.

"I think so," I whispered, like if I spoke too loud then he would somehow reapear. Without letting myself settle in my seat, I rose again and started to walk to a door I had seen at the back. "I need another drink."

+

**_Third Person P.O.V:_ **

"Marley," Rick's deep voice was soft to her as he reached a hand out to hold her shoulder. "What are you doing?" The man looked at the array of drinks she had collected, to the redness in her eyes, to the the wet patch on her shirt. He had already put two and two together but didn't want to believe it.

"I--" she paused, to blink heavily. "Got happy." She smiled widely, leaning on the hand placed on her shoulder.

Rick glanced over his shoulder for a moment at Glenn. "Who's Jimmy?"

Marley didn't answer, instead unscrewing the top of a bottle and drinking a lot more than she should have been. She kept drinking it. She wasn't stopping. So much so that the liquid starting coming out of her mouth, streaming down her neck and she started to choke.

Rick forcefully grabbed the neck of the bottle. He started to wrestle with Marley for the bottle, but she whimpered and tried to get away. He started repeating her name and for her to calm down before she crumbled in his arms. Not crying, but giggling. Amongst those giggles she said the answer to his question.

"He was my boyfriend," she snorted, leaning into Rick's chest.

Rick looked to Glenn, who had a worried look in his eyes as he watched one of his best friends look so broken.

Glenn remembered what happened last time she was drunk.

Whilst rick looked helplessly between the girl and Hershel, she had nestled her nose in the crook of his neck. He held her back, keeping her from falling over.

He heard he say a few things. "What?"

She huffed in annoyance. "I said that I want milkshake!" She yelled in his ear, causing him to push her to sit down. She didn't want to do that, she just wanted to drink. So she grabbed the bottle that Hershel was pouring from. It slipped from her grasp for a moment but she recovered.

Rick did the same as before and started to take it from her grasp. But before he could lay a finger on it, a gun was pressed against his cheek.

He put his hands up in surrender, backing away from Marley's poisonous stare.

"Let me be happy, daddy-o."

He nodded, showing that he wasn't going to take her supplement. She started to drink it, lowering the gun in the process.

This time, he turned to Hershel, who had been watching Marley unfold her secrets and become a drunken mess from such little liquid.

"Let's finish this up back at home," rick suggested.

Home. What did that even mean, ever?

"Beth collapsed," this grabbed Hershel's attention. "Is in some sort of state. Must be in shock, I think you are too."

Hershel's hazy eyes looked back and forth for a moment before speaking.

"Maggie's with her?"

"Yeah, but Beth needs you."

"What could I do? She needs her mother." Sorrow filled his voice and Glenn shifted uncomfortabley. Despite being irrevocably in love with maggie, the daughter of the greene family, he hardly knew anything about them. He felt like a disappointment in that aspect. "Or rather to mourn... like she should've done weeks ago."

Marley nodded fevertly, coughing into her hands when the drink hit her wrong.

"I robbed her of that." Hershel looked to nowhere, in particular, probably blinking away his simmering emotions. "I see that now."

Rick looked to Marley, but directed his speech to Hershel. He'd hoped to get through to both the hopeless creatures. "You thought there was a cure. Can't blame yourself for holding out for hope."

"But he was dumbass," Marley added.

"Marley, plea-"

"Hope?" Hershel smiled, which he'd mirrored from rick beside him. "When I first saw you running across my field with your boy in your arms, I had little hope he would survive."

Glenn caught Marley's eyes and her hand rising to cradle her head. Like she didn't want to listen. He took a few steps closer, readjusting the gun in his arms.

"But he did," rick assured.

"He did." The old man still looked at the circle of memories which was his glass. "Even though we lost otis."

"I'm leaving, bye," Marley announced, drunkenly getting up from her seat and tumbling towards the front door.

Rick eyed Glenn, who took the silent order and stepped in front of Marley, placing a hand on her shoulder before gently nudging her to a seat that sat at a table. On the table was a broken glass which he moved.

Marley covered her ears, sinking down into the seat

"Your man Shane, and marley made it back and we saved your boy." Hershel's blue eyes were wide, looking up and taking a deep breath. "That was the miracle that proved to me miracles do exist. Only it was a sham, a bait and switch."

Soft thumping came from behind Hershel. He looked over his shoulder and found that Marley was hitting her head against the table. Glenn started to try and stop her but she batted him away.

Hershel continued speaking. "I was a fool, Rick. And you people saw that."

"At least, I did," Marley spoke up, rubbing the sore spot in her forehead

"Marley, be quiet, please," Rick said, exasperated.

"Don't tell me what to do!" She yelled back, slamming her palm on the table.

"I'm asking!" He yelled back, louder. This made Marley sulk back into her seat.

"My daughters deserve better than that." Hershel took another gulp of his drink. He reached over and took the bottle beside him and started to pour more jnto his glass. He was far from finishing the bottle, but his hopeless mind wanted to see nothing.

Marley laid her arms on the table, a piece of broken glass digging into her arm. She ignored ithe and leaned forward and closing her eyes. She let her hair fall over her face, concealing her dark circles and scratched arms.

Rick brought his own hands to his face and rubbed his eyes in frustration, walking over to Glenn who was standing guard by the door.

Rick looked at Marley, he didn't expect it from her. To be this way. He didn't expect to find Marley getting drunk, because he didn't know why she wanted to.

"So what do we do? Just wait for them to pass out? Marley's got a gun." Glenn said, looking worriedly at his friend and the colt which laid on her lap whilst she appeared to be calming down and almost sleeping.

"Just go," the farmer retorted, staring angrily at the wall. "Just go!" He said louder.

Rick walked closer to where the girl sat, kneeling down slowly and looking at her face. He kept a hand on his knee, and through the curtain of red he saw her staring right back.

"Leave me here," she whispered, her eyes wide and scared.

He simply shook his head, standing up straight. "I promised Maggie I'd bring you home safe."

Hershel let out a dark chuckle. "Like you promised that little girl?"

Rick took a pause, thinking of what to say next. "So what's your plan? Finish that bottle? Drink yourself to death?"

Marley made her argument clear - "That is my plan."

Rick sighed. He had to convince a hallucinating victim of manipulation and a hopeless man losing his God to come back to a farm that wasnt even his.

"Hershel, leave your girls alone? Marley, just drop everything and never come back?"

Hershel angrily got up from his seat and faced the ex-cop. His hands ground up into fists as his face contorted into slight drunken rage. "Stop telling me how to care for my family, my farm. You people are like a plague!" Hershel's voice echoed in the room as he started throwing his fists in a fit of distaste. "I do the christian thing, give you shelter, and you destroy it all!"

Rick approached him, unafarid. "The world was already in bad shape when we met."

"And you take no responsibility! You're supposed to be their leader!"

"Well, I'm here now, aren't I?" Rick's voice was hoarse as he attempted to seem louder and more in control than the old man in front of him. To possibly gain authority iver disasterous substances that had plagued their minds into losing hope and finding truth, reality, cynisism.

There was a moment of silence between them both, and then a small sound came from where Marley was sitting as she dropped a piece of glass on the floor - the one that was previously sticking in her arm, before she pulled it out.

"Yes. Yes, you are," Hershel nodded, digging his teeth into his lips and turning to walk back to his seat."

"Come on. Your girls need you now more than ever," Rick followed u into his seat. He placed a hand on Hershel's elbow, only for the man to tear it away, like a child whom didn't want to do as their parents said.

"I didn't want to believe you. You told me there was no cure, that these people were dead, and not sick. I chose not to believe that."

Marley piped up once again. "What a dumbass."

"But when Shane shot Lou in the chest and she just kept coming, that's when I knew what an ass I'd been."

"Preach it," the girl lifted an imaginary glass into the air.

Glenn sighed.

"That Annette had been dead long ago and I was feeding her rotten corpse! That's when I knew there was no hope. And when that little girl came out of the barn, the look on your face-- I knew you knew it, too. Right?" Hershel's eyes held the third stage of grief. The third stage of grief was depression. No matter how different those stages looked on different people, there was always five and Hershel's were delayed - making it for a painful ride. "There is no hope. And you know it now, like I do. Don't you?"

Rick and Glenn exchanged a look. It was either one saying they knew what he was saying was true, or utter pity.

"There is no hope for any of us."

Whilst Rick went to Hershel convincing for him with an award winning speech, Glenn took a different approach in sitting down next to his friend.

"Marley?"

She nodded at him, her eyes veiny and red and tired from everything that happened those few days. Glenn saw that. Without knowing, he was looking at the wreckage of guilt and control issues.

"Are we going home?" He said softly, watching his volume. "I'm asking you, you call the shots this time. Are we going back to he farm?"

Glenn knew exactly what to say.

The alcohol had torn through her body and scarred it up entirely, screwing up her mind. She slowly lowered her head again to Glenns hand which rested on the table, her cheek pressing against his knuckles.

"Take me home, Glenn."

The sound of a door opening, cause Glenn to turn in his seat whilst taking his hand and placing it on Marley's arm.

There in the doorway, stood two men being cascaded in light, clad in old t shirts and a flat cap. One small and one large, their guns visible - they were brave enough to say a word in the people's presence.

"Son of a bitch," the smaller one said. "They're alive"

 


	44. guessing game

**_Third Person P.O.V:_ **

All plans Rick had for a peaceful exit flew out the window when the two strangers turned up on their doorstep. His first thoughts were, " _Guard_ ". Whether it be to keep up his own guard or protect those he was surrounded by. Two vulnerable friends who could easily say the wrong thing at the wrong time.

The two strangers eventually sat down where Marley had the glass dig into her arm. A small brush of blood was still there.

Glenn had ushered Marley behind the bar, his arms leaning on it whilst she sat stiffly on the stool. Her eyes became icy at the sight of the strangers, and she had not said a word. Hershel sat where he had been for the past couple hours, supported by hs elbow.

Rick had confiscated Marley's gun.

The two men casually sat down in front of them.

The man bearing the Strafford shirt leaned back as the sheriff poured his friends, and new-found "friends" a drink into a couple of shot glasses - all except for Marley and Hershel of course.

"I'm Dave," he said offhandedly, he looked between the other man and Rick. Dave immediately knew who the leader was, and the right-hand man, the stressed damsel in disguise, and the plan B. Dave was smart, unlike his counterpart. Dave pointed to him. "That scrawny looking douche-bag there is Tony."

"Eat me, Dave," Tony chuckled.

"Hey, maybe someday I will." Dave eyed the drink Rick had poured him, reaching out to take it.

The problem they had was that not only was Dave smart, but Rick was too. Marley even, maybe, was smarter - but her brain was still buzzed and scrambled from her tendencies. So as Dave eyed their group, Rick watched their double-act.

"We met on I-95 coming out of Philly. Damn shit-show that was."

Glenn, unlike everyone else, had a grin plastered on his face. He was practically ecstatic. The girl beside him hadn't blinked her eyes away from Dave. "I'm Glenn. It's nice to meet some new people."

"Rick Grimes," he offered his name, only breaking eye contact briefly as he handed Glenn his drink. Marley reached for it but he gently pushed her hand away. She huffed tiredly in annoyance.

Dave noticed.

Rick handed Tony a glass as well, and not one to Hershel.

"How about you, pal? Have one?" Dave asked, looking between the plan B and the stressed damsel in disguise - the two people not having drinks.

"I just quit," the old man answered, his voice still scratchy from what he had consumed, slurred and imprecise. Hershel's eyes seemed lazier as he squinted to see the men. His drunkenness could not be suppressed.

Marley, somehow, was able to suppress it. If she hadn't, she would be rambling on about absolutely nothing. But she stayed calm, her jolting leg squeezed by her own hand, just enough pressure to hold it down. Her pounding headache was pushed back. She had suppressed ill symptoms many times before. It wasn't that hard to do it again.

"You've got a unique sense of timing my friend," Dave smiled, being genuinely humorous.

Rick spoke up for his friend. "His name's Hershel. He lost people today, a lot of them." The experience of the situation in Rick's voice was almost painful.

Dave caught up on that, taking a moment of silence as he finally took his eyes off everyone. "I'm truly sorry to hear that." Dave knew what it was like, all too well. Dave had lost people. And like Hershel, it was a lot of them. Dave couldn't remember what it was like to refer to people in the present tense, and not the past.

He gulped, lifting up his glass. "To better days and new friends. And to our dead-- may they be in a better place." They all lifted their glass in unison, Rick and Dave looking through the liquid and glass to Dave, who did the same. Marley and Hershel stayed still.

And as they lifted their glasses in unison, they downed it that way. Dave did it quickly, not wanting to be distracted for too long. Glenn sipped it gingerly. Rick drank it steadily. Tony gulped it longingly.

Marley was almost jealous.

As Dave kept the glass in his hand, he coughed under his breath then looked to the last person he knew nothing about. The girl with strawberry blonde hair, and tired but thunderous green eyes. The thin flesh around them were slightly discoloured, and her plump lips were dry and in need of sobriety.

Dave noticed how she deciphered him, he calculated that she already knew what type of person he was. And Dave was correct.

"What about you?" he gestured towards her. "You got a name?"

She lifted an eyebrow, tapping the fingers on top of the surface in front of her - it was momentarily the only sound heard. Until she spoke up, her vocal cords scratchy, more than usual. It had gone from her usual brittle and taut voice had gotten worse. All those years strangling her screams had permanently made her words come out slightly strangled.

"Marley. Marley Van Allan," she answered, halting her tapping fingers. Her head was tilted downwards to where her eyes had to be rolled back to look at him. This only highlighted how unhealthy she looked. She looked tired and like a cracked shell.

"Pretty name," Tony interjected. Dave rolled his eyes.

Marley continued. "I have an alcohol problem," she said. Dave lifted his eyebrows at her, telling her to go further. "Just a problem. Many problems."

She wouldn't give him any more.

Dave nodded, pushing his glass across to the other side of the table, reminding himself not to drink too much. When he did that, the gun tucked into the waistband of his jeans showed itself. He saw at the corner of his eye, Rick and Marley look suspiciously between him and the gun in question.

He was brave, so he pulled it out to show. "Not bad, huh?" Dave laid it out on his hand to show them, crossing one leg over the other. "I got it off a cop."

"I'm a cop," Rick said immediately, but Dave was even faster to counteract.

"This one was already dead," he smiled, trying to keep the mood from getting darker if he could. Dave would be lying if he sad that nervousness didn't get shot through him every time Marley and Rick blinked at him. Out of the four people in front of him, Marley and Rick were the most dangerous.

Like he was calculating, so was Rick. "You fellas are a long way from Philadelphia."

"It feels like we're a long way from anywhere."

"What drove you south?"

"Well, I can tell you it wasn't the weather," Dave pinched the bridge of his nose, recalling his colder hometown and shifting uncomfortably. "I must've dropped thirty pounds in sweat alone down here."

Tony interjected, his Philly accent stronger than Dave's. "I wish."

"No, first it was DC. I heard there might be some kind of refugee camp, but the roads were so jammed, we never even got close." Dave remembered the mass amount of cars. He remembered the horror of hopeful corpses littering the roads. Women, children, men. Everyone had tried. "We decided to get off the highways, into the sticks, keep hauling ass." Dave remembered that he couldn't convince a certain person to leave the highway, and the last he saw of them was their figure walking slowly between the cars. But he wasn't alive. "Every group we came across had a new rumour about a way out of this thing."

"One guy told us there was a coast guard-center in the gulf, sending ferries to the islands."

Dave hadn't been there, but he remembered witnessing a fight between a boat. The boat never made it to the coast and had bared more blood than water. "The latest was a railyard in Montgomery running trains to the middle of the country-- Kansas, Nebraska."

This time, it was Glenn who spoke up. "Nebraska?"

"Low population, lots of guns," Tony answered, his eyes going wide at the thought of surviving being a little easier.

"Kinda makes sense," Glenn looked to Marley. He had been watching her for the past few moments. The way her hand was shaking from the pressure of using it to squeeze her leg. Glenn, admittedly, was too scared to pull her hand away with his own.

Glenn had never been scared of Marley.

"You ever been to Nebraska, kid?" Dave tilted his head. "The reason they call 'em fly over states."

Tony let out a wheezy, and strained laugh as Rick finished off the rest of his drink. Dave gave his friend a smile, looking back down to his lap. He had been worn out from recalling memories.

"How about you guys?" Dave asked.

Marley didn't really know that answer, she didn't really care where she went as long as she wasn't alone. Rick knew, his leg hitched up on the stool as he kept his body entirely still. He still had the motif " _guard_ " running through his head. "Fort Benning, eventually."

"I hate to piss in your cornflakes, officer, but..." Dave really did hate it, honestly. He gulped. "We ran across a grunt who was stationed at Benning. He said the place was overrun by lamebrains."

Glenn's face dropped, the light fading from his eyes as he looked between Dave and Rick. "Wait, Fort Bennington is gone? Are you for real?"

Dave bit his lip before answering, his face downcast. "Sadly, I am."

He brought in a breath, he was fidgeting with his hands in his lap. He was admittedly uncomfortable with the world. As much bad or good Dave had done, he was incredibly uncomfortable with everything about it. He could never get used to letting people down and forcing people to live because he couldn't watch them die. He couldn't take it day after day.

Marley saw that.

"Ugly truth is there is no way out of this mess." He shook his head, his expression similar to that of a beaten dog. "Just keep going from one pipe dream to the next, praying one of these mindless freaks doesn't grab a hold of you when you sleep."

Marley closed her eyes briefly. "If you sleep."

He nodded sadly. "That's very true, Miss Van Allan." An idea dawned inside him - survival instinct being brought out and reminded. "Yeah, it doesn't look like you guys are hanging your hats here. You holed in somewhere else?"

Something turned inside Rick. A compass. "Not really." He peered at the man in front of him, brushing off the interrogation that Dave had initiated.

Dave also brushed off the hint. "Those your cars out front?"

Glenn answered this time. "Yeah. Why?"

Rick had a positive expression on his face, mostly arrogant. But his insides were definitely negative. His compass was upwards, so for Dave, it was pointing downwards.

For Rick, he had already made the decision. He had decided that Dave was not going to win whatever game they were playing.

"We're living in ours," Dave said. "Those look kinda empty, clean. Where's all your gear?"

Rick lifted his arm to rest his elbow on the bar, he looked over his right shoulder to look at Marley.

She looked back at him, and they both knew that they were on each others side in this game. Whatever chess piece they were, they were the black side. They wouldn't go first, but it didn't mean their moves were any weaker.

After that confirmation, he looked back to Dave but Hershel spoke up. "We're with a larger group. Out scouting, thought we could use a drink"

"A drink? Hershel, I thought you quit." Dave was always good at spotting errors in stories. But Marley was burning inside and she didn't really know why.

She thought it was because Dave had used Hershel's name. There was something so intrusive about a stranger using a part of your identity in their own mouth. Like a sense that they could tear more away from yourself.

Rick looked slightly humorous. As Dave and Tony smiled and laughed it off, Rick's brain was burning its cogs trying to halt viscera. The same with Marley.

"Well, we're thinking about setting up around here. Is it safe?"

Glenn's helpful trait shone through. "It can be."

"Not a guarantee," Marley added, her voice like a whisper. "There's never a sure moment living anywhere, anymore. It's all a guessing game. You never now if a walker is around the next corner or the fifth."

"Walkers?" Dave asked in a gentle voice - he knew he had to be. "That what you call 'em?"

The corner of her lip curled upwards. "Yeah."

"That's good. I like that better than lamebrains."

Once again, Tony interrupted. "More succinct."

Dave lifted a hand to the back of his neck. "Okay, Tony went to college."

"Two years."

Marley didn't think that going to college proved you were smarter. She had never been to college. She never finished the sophomore year, and yet, she knew just as much as everyone else. If not, more. Despite being the second youngest in the group, if you counted the farm, then third - she had a mind similar to the oldest ones.

There fell and awkward silence as Dave realised that these people were not going to give in easily. "So what-- so what, you guys set up on the outskirts or something? That new development?" He pointed his thumb towards the door. A silent invitation for himself.

Tony leaned forward and got up from his seat, starting to walk over to the opposite wall. "Trailer park or something?"

"A farm?" Dave prodded. Dave knew that they were too smart to be tricked, so he had to be blunt. "Old McDonald had a farm..." he sang, eyes trailing after his friend, as did Rick's. Then his eyes snapped to Rick. "You on a farm?"

Marley watched in the corner of her eye, with disgust, as Tony leant his arm against the wall and urinated - continuing the song that Dave had started.

'You on a farm?' rang through Rick and Marley's head. ' _That farm_ ' where Carl was. ' _That farm_ ' where Rick's unborn child was, and where Marley's tiny sense of being cared for in the form of a person was. ' _That farm_ ' where their whole worth was.

"Is it safe? It's gotta be," Tony had a much less good way at speaking to people that could potentially be the key to a longer life or a shorter one.

Dave thought of the important things. "You got food, water?"

Tony thought of other things. "You got cooze? Ain't had a piece of ass in weeks."

Marley nearly got whiplash at how fast she turned her head towards him. The tenacity and cockiness he must have had to say that in front of her must have made him blind stupid. 

She saw how Rick turned his head to look at her discreetly. He still had his arm placed next hers, and his palm now lay flat.

Everyone looked to the girl, even Tony himself, whilst he still was handling himself.

Her jaw clenched, and her head tilted downwards, eyes still on him. A sound was heard as her nails scraped against the wood, curling her hand into a tight fist.

Rick tapped the bar once, very lightly.

"Listen, pardon my friend," Dave hastily told Marley, bringing a hand to his face and rubbing his eyes tiredly. "City kids-- they got no tact. No disrespect." His eyes turned slightly angry, as his friend was not following his technique. Dave didn't want to disrespect Marley.

So, Dave knew out of all of them; it was either Glenn or Hershel who would bend to words. Rick and Marley were just as smart as him.

The three of them knew that.

"So listen, Glenn--"

"We've said enough," Rick had enough. He knew Marley had too. Tony's comment was the last straw, and there were plenty of straws.

"Well, hang on a second. This farm, it sounds pretty sweet," tactics were being slowly pushed aside, bit by bit, as desperation laced his thoughts and Dave just wanted something - something, a prize. "Don't it sound sweet, Tony?"

"Yeah, real sweet," he answered, finishing himself off and zipping up his pants. He laid his shotgun across his shoulder, absentmindedly.

"How about a little southern hospitality?" There was a pause. "We got some buddies back at camp, been having a real hard time. I don't see why you can't make room for a few more. We could pool our resources, our manpower." Dave wasn't greedy, he was desperate.

Rick stopped him before he could go any further. "Look, I'm sorry. That's not an option."

Dave knew that it wasn't, but it didn't stop him from trying harder. "Doesn't sound like it'd be a problem."

"Then I don't know what you've been listening to," Marley snapped. Her eyes still hadn't left Tony. He should have been scared. "We can't take in any more."

"So," Tony drawled. "Definitely no southern hospitality."

"I was raised by a dutchman," she clarified, steadily. Her voice did not falter.

There was another pause.

Dave couldn't help but chuckle. "You guys are something else. I thought-- I thought we were friends."

No one answered him - that was answer enough.

"We got people we gotta look out for, too," Dave's voice was slightly strained.

Rick shrugged. "We don't know anything about you."

"No, that's true," he shifted under their gazes - nervous. "You don't know anything about us. You don't know what we've had to go through to get here. The things we've had to do." He jutted his jaw out, thinking about the times he's had to walk away from unburied loved ones. "I bet you've had to do some of those things yourself. Am I right?"

There was a moment where the three people - Marley, Rick, and Dave - they knew, that each other understood.

"'Cause ain't nobody's hands clean in what's left of this world. We're all the same."

And Marley knew that people who were similar to her in that aspect, they needed to stay away from each other. If she met someone like her, her initial instinct would be to run for the hills.

"So come on, let's let's take a nice friendly hayride to this farm and we'll get to know each other."

Rick only shrugged again, turning more away from Marley and directly to Dave. "That's not gonna happen." There was a sick smile on his face.

"Rick--"

"This is bullshit," Tony exclaimed.

"Calm down," Rick hissed.

"Don't tell me to calm down. Don't ever tell me to calm down." Dave tried to calm down his friend but was put down before he could even get a word in. "I'll shoot you three assholes in the head, and take your damn farm along with missy here!"

Both Rick and Marley rose from their seats. Rick's lean body strode steadily towards the man, and Marley stood furiously glued to her spot. Dave intervened between the two men whom he knew who would win out of the two. He didn't even want to think about if _he_ was involved.

"Relax," he hushed his friend, holding a hand towards him. He placed a hand on Rick's shoulder, who almost jerked away and casually. Dave's heart thumped in his ears. "Take it easy. Nobody's killing anybody." Dave knew that they would be prepared to, though.

He lay a hand on Rick's shoulder briefly, before walking towards the other side of the counter adjacent to him. He climbed over it easily. "Nobody's shooting anybody. Right, Rick?"

As he landed on the ground, he spotted her. Marley's head was tilted downwards again, eyes upwards, but not at him. At Tony.

See, Marley knew that Rick had it handled. She knew that he was going to handle it. That was why she wasn't ducking behind the counter waiting for a shot to ring out and a body to hit the ground. 

She wanted to watch.

Tony handled the gun behind him, as Rick did it just as fast - a brief, beady glance over his shoulder.

As Glenn and Hershel watched with wide eyes, Marley dragged her nails across the top, walking from beside Glenn. Her upper body stayed steady as her legs carried her through the little opening between the two counters. Her eyelids were heavy. Her heartbeat unintentionally speeding up when Dave laid his gun down in front of him.

"Now, where's the good stuff, huh?" Dave clapped his dry hands together, rubbing them together. "Good stuff, good stuff, good stuff. Let's see." He leaned down.

The sheriff latched his hand to the grip of his gun.

Dave's heartbeat was even louder, he thought that the people around him could hear it too.

He concealed it by talking more. "Hey," he grinned, holding up a full bottle of scotch. "That'll work." He sighed whilst unscrewing the lid, starting to pour himself a drink - into, admittedly, an extremely dusty glass.

Marley eyed the drink. She knew that he was using her tactic in that moment. Drink to hopefully conceal.

"You gotta understand-- we can't stay out there. You know what it's like."

This time, Marley spoke up, running a hand across her face to brush away fallen hair - licking her lips. "Yeah, we do," she leaned against the countertop. "But you are not coming to the farm. No ifs, buts, maybes, possibilities, parallel universes. Just an answer. And the answer's " _no_ "."

Rick continued her argument for her. "You'll have to keep looking."

"Keep looking,"  Dave echoed, teetering on his feet. His hands gripped the edge of he counter. He really needed to be somewhere safe  
He didn't know how long he could take being out there anymore. "Where do you suggest we do that?"

Rick thought for a moment, shrugging his shoulders. "I don't know. I hear Nebraska's nice."

Dave bared his teeth and laughed. It was like he forgot how to stand as he became more and more nervous. Angry. Desperate.

Dave was incredibly desperate.

"Nebraska," he echoed Rick's voice again, in a mocking and humorous tone. He lifted his eyebrows for a moment and looked to Marley's pale face. "This guy."

He kept the smile on his face, taking a last look at the girl. The way her eyes were veiny and aching. Her lips slightly parted and bitten into. Her red hair falling over one eye like a devil has marked the way she sees things.

Marley looked to Dave.

They both knew.

And in a sudden moment, Dave latched his hand around his gun.

He remembered what his sister told him - " _you've got to get it up to your eye."_

So he tried. He really did.

But Rick also knew. He also knew where Dave stood and what needed to happen.

And just as fast, he lifted the muzzle of his own gun. Just in time for no bullet to hit him, but for his own to meets it's mark.

Dave's head flung back, facing the ceiling as his wound sprayed blood on the clouded mirror.

He spun on his heel to Tony, pulling the trigger at his shoulder. Then his stomach.

Tony reacted slowly as he shot at the ceiling, causing parts of it and dust to fall onto him. His body slid down the wall.

Rick cooked his gun one more time, taking three steps forward and firing again. To the head.

Another thud, and then they were both gone.

Both dealt with.

 

 


	45. evolving

**_Third Person P.O.V:_ **

Marley stayed absolutely still.

Whereas Glenn and Hershel looked wide eyed at Rick, she simply scratched her head, wiping the hair away from her face.

Glenn's jaw shook as he witnessed his friend lazily look at the bodies.

He felt like he had lost her. Like they had all lost her and there was no getting her back.

They congregated around tony's body, muttering "oh shit".

Rick looked to Glenn. "You all right?"

He gave a small "yeah" before his eyes trailed after his friend in concern, as did Rick's. To Marley, who was standing, now, by Dave's body.

His body had slumped against the shelves, his blood staining the old, rotting wood. He had a hole in his head, eyes wide.

Marley stared at him for a moment, before grasping his shoulder. "Excuse me," she sighed, pulling him forward so she could get to what was behind him.

 _Another_ bottle.

"Marley?" Rick called. "You alright?"

She nodded her head, still looking at the body, with a new bottle in her hand.

There was an almost uncomfortable silence as she walked back over to Rick and Hershel exchanging nods. She leaned against Rick again, tired and definitely still not entirely sober.

"Let's head back," Hershel proposed, taking steps back away from the scene in front of him.

Marley stood on her own two feet as Rick claimed what was tony's. _His_ gun.

When he stood back up, she leaned back against him as they started walking to the front of the bar - Glenn took a route to claiming what was Dave's.

Lights passed the windows, and the shadows danced setting panic into the four person's veins.

Rick pulled Marley along with him as they hastily ducked near the front door, away from prying eyes.

The sound of an engine made Marley feel slightly at home.

They all looked at each other, Glenn to Rick, crouched with a gun in his arms.

"Wha-" Marley went to whisper, but Rick was quick to clamp his hand over the lower half of her face, pulling her back into his chest.

She didn't detest.

" _Tony!?_ " A stranger yelled. " _I'm telling you, man, I heard shots!_ "

There was more bickering whilst Marley sat lazy-eyed and bored, watching as Glenn shifted in his position out of nervousness.

A dark figure appeared at the door and they all looked towards it.

Then it left and moved across the windows.

Rick slowly uncovered Marley's mouth, digging into his belt and pulling her gun out. He took her hand and placed it there, replacing the bottle and watching carefully as her hands trembled under the cold metal. He nodded to her, and she nodded back.

They all kept listening, peeping through the windows in hopes of them going away. The plaid curtains turned dark every time one of the strangers passed by.

+

The smell of steamed water and flour echoed throughout the room as dinner was ready. Carl's eyes stayed focused on the doily-like cloth that was laid on the table. Along with the faded pink and green, that decorated the edges of the old plates in front of him.

He missed her.

Carl missed Marley.

"Carl, I want you to keep your head up, okay?" Shane's voice cut his thoughts short.

There was a glum feeling around the room - with Hershel doing a runner, and Rick and Glenn following after them - it made everyone uneasy, especially due to the events that day.

"Your old man, he's the toughest son of a--"

"No cussing in the house," Patricia's sour voice interrupted.

Shane gave a short smile before apologising.

T-Dog passed the bread to the boy next to him, but Carl put the basket down on the other side of him. He wasn't hungry.

Carol walked to the doorway, calling out, "Lori, dinner." But Maggie turned in her seat, waving Carol off. "She's not in there."

Dale leaned forward. "Where is she?" Everyone's attention was brought to Maggie as she didn't have an answer, looking awkwardly at the older man. Carol looked around the table. Shane stopped chewing his food as it dawned on him that the woman he cared about was possibly in trouble.

He discarded of the tissue in his hand and placed his elbows on the table. He looked to the youngest on the table who's eyes were wide with worry. "Carl, when's the last time you saw your mom?"

"This afternoon," he answered in a small voice.

Andrea spoke up. "She was worried about Rick, asked me to look in on Carl," she sucked in a low breath. "She was also looking for Marley."

"She went after them?" Dale inquired.

"She didn't say that."

This time, T-Dog put down his fork and rubbed a hand up his scarring arm. "Why was she looking for Marley?"

"She said she was missing," Andrea shrugged, suddenly realising that Marley probably was missing.

Shane looked to Carl again. "You seen Marley, either?"

The young sir shook his head.

+

Rick slid up the wall, opening the curtain a little wider. He couldn't see any motive cars, just static ones, so he only gave himself a second to be sure before crawling his way towards Glenn and Hershel. He cast a blink behind him to see Marley's little hand latched onto his belt loop, dragging her knees across the ground after him.

"Why won't they leave?" Glenn whispered, looking between the four of them. Marley closed her eyes, leaning on Rick's arm.

"Would you?" Hershel replied

Rick began to take charge. "We can't sit here any longer," his voice strained. "Let's head out to the back and make a run to the car."

Hershel nodded surely, and as they got up to leave their bodies shook within their skin as a gun shot rang out and caused them to suck in a breath and duck back down to the floor. More gun shots and the four of them gripped the handles of their weapons taut, Marley's recovering eyes blinking feverishly.

Rick was able to see one of them from the window. " _What happened?_ " Another stranger yelled. With that, two more of them appeared.

" _They disappeared, their car's still there_."

Marley licked her lips slowly and caressed the side of her gun with her thumb, her other hand still hooked on the sheriff's belt loop.

" _I cleared those buildings. You guys get this one?_ "

" _No._ "

" _Me neither._ "

The footsteps became louder, and closer, and much more frightening - Rick drew his gun, and Glenn struck a worried glance in Rick and Marley's direction.

As the strangers strode closer, the redhead snuck her way around Rick's knees and placed herself on the floor right in front of the door, her back pressing against the wood. She let out a calm breath from her mouth as her nails scratched across the floor in an attempt to root herself.

But it wasn't enough, as the man went to open the door, Marley's light frame caused her body to jolt forward. She wasn't prepared for that hard of a push.

She pushed the door back, and Glenn left his shotgun on the floor as he crawled quickly to press his own self against the door to help her.

" _What?_ "

" _Someone pushed it shut._ "

Glenn bit his lip and he shook.

Marley stayed still.

" _There's someone in there. Yo, is someone in there? Yo, if someone's in there we don't want no trouble. Look we're just looking for our friends._ "

_Friends._

Marley trailed her eyes along the floor and to the two bodies that lay in their own decay. _Their friends. Could these people be their friends_ , she thought.

The strangers talked some more. " _We don't want any trouble!_ " They yelled loudly.

The only thing Marley could think of was that was what everyone always said. That's what Dave and Tony intended. Hell, that's what the group intended when they got to the farm. But it seemed that trouble seemed to be more concentrated ever since they got there.

Shane and Marley killed Otis. Shane and Marley also forwarded the action of shooting up the barn; in the process, threatening Dale. Lori became pregnant, not knowing who the father was. The group had used up Hershel's medical supplies. Daryl was almost killed.

And all the troubles had made Marley lose her mind, just as she was finding it again.

" _We're just looking for our friends. If something happened, tell us. This place is crawling with corpses. If you can help us not get killed I'd appreciate it._ "

Rick gritted his teeth brought a knuckle to his forehead. The immense intensity was weighing down on him heavily.

As the footsteps started to depart, Marley flicked away a piece of hair that had been hanging in her eyes. She breathed out but her eyes turned wide when Rick started to yell. Just before he had been tilting his head and taking short breaths, contemplating whether to talk.

"They drew on us!"

Marley launched forward and took his shirt collar into her hands and pushed him further into the wall, leaving Glenn as the only one against the door.

She brought her face close to his, her eyebrows furrowed and started talking through her teeth. "You stupid bitch!" She whispered, curling her fingers near his throat.

The footsteps started to approach again as Rick gently try to pry Marley's hands away from him, but she had a strong grip on the fabric of his shirt.

"Look what you've done," her voice cracked from anger.

" _Dave and Tony in there?They alive?_ "

Marley took Rick and abruptly pushed him against the wall, making a noise and sending pain briefly across his shoulders.

She looked at him like she wanted to kill him, and he had a feeling that he should be taking that feeling seriously. "Sort it out," she whispered, standing from her kneeling position, and taking the bottle she had left on the ground with her.

She swayed her way away from the three men, not afraid of the strangers seeing her shadow. Marley passed a glance at the men over her shoulder and unscrewed the lid to the bottle after tucking her gun into her jeans.

Rick screwed his face up in frustration. "No!" He called out.

Marley didn't hear what the people outside were saying but Rick could as he responded. "Your friends drew on us! They gave us no choice! I'm sure we've all lost enough people," Rick's pulse rose at every word he said, wishing he could take back words like Marley had scolded him for. "Done things we wish we didn't have to, but it's like that now. You know that!"

There was no response, so he continued. Glenn watched from the sidelines but then diverted his eyes back to the standing Marley who leaned on one foot and drowned her throat in more alcohol.

"Let's just chalk this to what it was-- wrong place, wrong--"

He didn't get a chance to finish his sentence as he had to duck down when shotgun bullets made their way through the windows. The strangers were obviously taking their anger out on them, repeatedly pulling triggers as the glass shattered over Glenn's shoulders.

Marley, surprisingly, wasn't hit at all. And the thing was that her body jolted but she didn't move. Almost as if she was a daredevil.

Even though she was tipping to the left, she still stood.

Rick stood up and aimed his gun through the hole in the window, shooting once then shouting at Glenn and Hershel. "Get outta here! Go!"

Hershel and Glenn stayed low as they scurried to the back of the bar.

With guns firing and glass shattering, Glenn tried to get Marley to go with him in the few moments he had to stand where shots were being thrown.

He grabbed her shoulder and elbow, practically dragging her to the left of the bar and ducking behind a piano.

Glenn lay an arm across her shoulder, keeping her still as his body panicked when a few bullets scattered themselves near the side of his body.

He was breathing heavily as Hershel slid his shotgun across the floor to him.

"Get your hands off me pepperoni boy," Marley warned, batting Glenn's arm away from her. "Huh," she pointed to the piano. "Did I tell you about that one time me and Daryl put a piano on a door."

He obliged and muttered a small, "Sorry," more focused on not being shot than trying to make sense of what Marley was trying to achieve by getting drunk.

While Marley brought her knees to her chest and got comfy, sinking back into her dazed state, Rick, Glenn, and Hershel passed each other glances.

More scared than the stressed damsel in disguise.

+

Daryl squinted his eyes, staring at the red and orange flames as he teased it with a stick.

He was, for the first night in a while, alone. And he absolutely hated it.

It was too silent for him. Sure he relished the solitude sometimes but when the tables had turned and he suddenly got used to the company he really didn't want that the change.

Right then he wasn't listening to her steady breathing as she slept, the way she rubbed her shins with her foot subconsciously. The sound of her trailing pencils along pages and turning those pages.

Even her low mutterings had suddenly become like a work song for him.

Marley had become his routine and when she was evolving, changing, and even missing he didn't know what to do.

He became frustrated and angry and found himself becoming closer to what he used to be before he met her.

On top of that, what had happened that day set a sour feeling in his mind and anger in his veins. He was just so tense.

And he hated that. He never wanted to be that.

But he couldn't pull her back like he asked her to because he didn't like to order her around if she didn't like it.

He'd noticed she had become more vocal and cocky around the group, but to him, she was the same. She was still advising him and talking to him even when he didn't answer back which was almost always.

He knew she kept secrets, and he also kept them for her.

If she didn't say anything, he didn't dare try himself.

He moved his leg to a comfier position, but in the process knocking over something that was laying beside it.

He dropped the stick and muttered curses as he gathered the papers in his hands, carefully laying them back where they were - in a neat pile between two pieces of leather.

He didn't know why Marley had ripped up her book or where she had gone.

But he had figured she was just sorting something out - he hoped. And with the book, well, he really didn't know. But Daryl didn't hesitate to pick up the pieces and make sure it was all still there.

+

Rick had tried conversing with the strangers, tried to make a deal.

But with no reply they had figured they had left.

And after Glenn had gone to the very back of the bar after hearing a few bottles rattling, and seeing them trying to get in, he shot at the door it shattered.

Rick called out to Glenn, but he assured that he was okay.

Glenn guarded the door with the shotgun pulled to his chest, loading it and finally feeling the breeze of the cool air outside that reminded him it was getting late - and people were probably worrying.

Rick and Hershel were situated beside each other, and Rick started to think of a plan. "I'll hold 'em here. You cover Glenn. See if you can make it to your car. Tell him-- tell him to pull up back. We'll run for it, get the hell out of here."

"You want me to cover Glenn?" Hershel inquired.

"You missed all that gun training. It could've come in handy now."

Hershel shook his head and looked down to his gun, checking the amount of bullets. "Nah, I can shoot. I just don't like to." He went to walk away but the redhead still sitting by the piano caught his eye. Thankfully, she had stopped drinking and just sat there. "What about Marley?"

Rick sighed, annoyed that there were so many loose ends that could be pulled to make their escape fall into a shambles like the shattered glass that had previously fallen on his shoulders. "Don't worry about her. I got her."

That was enough for Hershel as he followed Rick's orders and walked to the back to where Glenn was.

Rick banged his head against the post behind him, briefly, then he looked to the lady on the floor. "Marley?"

She looked at him expectantly.

He held out a hand, wiggling his fingers as an invitation. "Come on."

Her eyes rolled and she slumped lower, hugging her bottle close to her chest.

"Come on. Please, Marley, Please," he begged, nervous of not being able to bring her home.

Something clicked inside her, and it was as if her body was getting up without her permission. Her legs were shaky as she strolled through the gunfire zone. Rick was nervous as her footsteps were slow, and could have possibly put her in danger since she was walking right past the windows.

But, she finally made it to him, her shorter self looking up at him with red and green eyes that looked to be holding a lot of emotions right then that he couldn't really decipher what she was feeling right then.

And right then, she didn't really know herself.

She took his hand in hers lightly, and he gripped hers tightly.

When the sound of gunshots coming from where Hershel had walked to, Rick panicked and dragged her with him to investigate. Marley huffed in annoyance at the man and really regretted letting him take her hand.

They both made it to the back, and Rick poked his head out to see Hershel under the lintel, gun raised and ready.

"What happened?" Rick asked, out of breath. Marley tried to pry her hand away but he kept her there.

"He fired," Hershel's voice shook. "He must've hit Glenn." Hershel turned to look at the dumpster where Glenn had ducked down to. "He's behind the dumpster."

If this was a few hours ago then Marley would hastily go after him, but she stayed still.

"Doesn't look like he's moving."

Rick nodded to Hershel, then gestured to Marley. Hershel nodded back and took that as a queue to place his hand on Marley's shoulder so that she wouldn't wander off.

When Rick held up two guns and went to check on Glenn, Marley batted away the man's hand away from her. "Get off me, old man," she huffed. Hershel surrendered to her and held up a hand.

Marley was more focused on the man whom Hershel had shot down, he was writhing on the floor in pain from he bullet wound. She leaned against the door frame, swinging her bottle from side to side. She patted Hershel on the arm, gaining his attention.

"You should shoot him again," she said casually, nodding her head to the man in pain.

"What?" Hershel asked, bewildered.

"You shot him in the leg, he's a meal for the walkers now," she explained. "But you're some hoity-toity man of God so you wouldn't want him to be in pain - therefore, you need to shoot him again."

Hershel started at her with wide eyes. He couldn't believe that she was saying that - sure she hadn't been the most interactive or even liking towards him before. But she was so small and so young.

"Is that what you would do?"

"Oh no," she said aghast, a smile rising on her face. "I wouldn't bother myself. I don't really care."

There were more gunshots, and Marley's eyes widened and she became annoyed; "People just need to stop."

So, she stood there bored as more noises fell around her like electrical sparks. She was unfazed, and not only did the toxicity in her veins help, but Marley had genuinely been in much more formidable situations and settings.

The stranger shouting caught her attention, and she turned on her heel to see one of them on the rooftop of one of the buildings. She couldn't really decipher what he was saying. To her what he was shouting was unintelligible.

She watched as the person jumped down to a lower level, and then down to a lower level. And at that, the person let out a curdling scream - and Marley couldn't help the smirk that spread across her face. Because these strangers were the opposing force and with that sweet and poisonous noise, she knew that at least one of them was losing.

"Hershel! Marley!" Glenn's sharp whisper caught her years, and she looked to him down the lane with that shotgun in his arms. She jumped down the door and started walking to him, even when Hershel shot a walker that strolled near the man on the ground. Hershel attempted to take them out, but one was already gnawing on the man's face, therefore, another scream filled the air.

Marley smiled again.

"Hershel, come on," Glenn begged, his nerves running high. "Hershel. Hershel." The old man backed away from the blood and pain that he couldn't believe was actually possible.

Marley walked past Glenn and towards where Rick had ran. Rick had gone straight past their car and to the man she thought was dead.

"Officer?" She elongated the word teasingly, going to open her bottle again but she found the person in question by the stranger.

It looked like he was trying to help him.

The strangers whimpered and cried, and Marley saw why when he spotted that his leg had been impaled with the fencing that ran beside the dumpster he was lying on.

Hershel came over and begged for Rick to leave him, Glenn said it too and Marley was simply watching.

When the stranger begged for them not to leave him, even Hershel disagreed on helping him.

"He was just shooting at us!" Glenn pointed out.

"He's a kid," rick snarled.

"This place is crawling with walkers!"

"We can't leave him!"

Hershel started to examine the wound. "The fence went clean through. There's no way we can get the leg off in one piece."

Glenn walked over and shook the fence which Marley didn't think was helpful at all. It only made the victim scream louder and Rick gave Marley some instructions.

"Marley shut him up," he insisted.

Marley muttered a very sure "okay" and reached into the back of her jeans, walking further towards him and aimed it right at the person's head.

Rick's heart was in his throat as he quickly rushed over and hit her arm so that her bullet couldn't hit the man but hit the wall beside him.

Marley only raised her gun again but Rick pushed her whole body against the wall beside him.

"Stop, we are not doing that," rick scolded her.

Marley took her fist and quickly jolted the underneath part of his jaw and he stumbled back.

She kicked him in the lower part of his shin and he fell to the ground, unable to fathom what was happening. But when Rick looked up and saw her aiming her gun again, he stood up and pinned her against the wall again.

She sunk, giving up on her goal, but instead gritting her teeth at the man in front of her. "You just killed two men in there, and you're not going to kill a ' _kid_ '"

"That's right," rick still had a pretty good hold on the woman, looking down at her eyes which were framed by her messy hair.

"I'm just a 'kid'. See?" she smiled. "So I hope that if I become a liability like he is right now, you won't be afraid and kill me."

She elbowed him in the stomach, signalling him to step away. He did so and watched as she walked past him, giving one glance over her shoulder. Amongst the chaos her small voice that hissed at him could still be heard. "You're a fucking wimp, Rick grimes."

"Can't we just take the leg off," Glenn suggested, after trying to actually shut him up, unlike Marley's method.

There was a pause before Rick spoke up, holding his stomach where Marley had hurt him.

"That hatchet still in the car?" Rick enquired then the stranger started begging them not to do so.

Marley wasn't paying attention, instead writhing in her skin that Rick was going to spare this stupid kids life.

Hershel was preparing to cut his leg off, Glenn held his gun steady in case of walkers, and Rick held the boy down.

Marley was torn between standing there and fighting again to end the boys life and just walking to their car and waiting for all the drama to die down. Including the walkers which were surrounding them steadily.

The boy screamed into Rick's hand, and Glenn shot every walker that came his way.

Eventually, Rick had to leave the boy and start shooting them from where they were coming on the other side of them.

When the screams of the boy, became all but pleasant to her ears, she took it into her own hands.

If she couldn't kill him, she could, at least, knock him unconscious.

Hershel said he needed more hands, and Marley was going to do that.

It was hard to climb onto the dumpster, and she took her time.

It took so much of her time that when she finally got on there, it seemed that Hershel had given up when it all became too much.

They were about to leave, and Marley could tell that Rick wasn't going to without the boy.

Rick took the boys leg, and with an all mighty crunch lifted it from the fence with so much force that the spike which faced the opposing way didn't stop his skin passing it.

The stranger looked up to the sky and screamed, louder than his others.

Marley took his face between her two hands and lifted it for a moment, before abruptly slamming it against the metal.

When he didn't go unconscious, she did it again.

She eventually just took her fist and swung it across his eyes and that knocked him out.

She looked up from the sleeping boy to Rick.

"I shut him up," she tilted her head and gave him a sneer expression. "You happy?"


	46. champagne for the pain

**_Marley's P.O.V:_ **

What the fuck was I doing?

Right then, sitting beside that stupid fucking kid. The one I tried to kill - because he was a liability. He wasn't one of us. I didn't ever want him to be one of us. I wanted to kill him.

Instead, I had to settle with knocking him out.

Thankfully, Glenn took the space between me and the boy, whom we had learned his name was Randall.

But after everything, after all, the lying and deceiving. The keeping the truth from everyone because if they knew... oh boy, if they knew - they would hate me.

So why did I go and drink - the one thing that can make you blabber the hidden passages you've stored away in your mind. Filed away and stamped with a big "fuck off" sign on them.

So I had one question for myself.

_What the fuck was I doing?_

As the sun rose higher in the air, bit by bit, it became harder to keep my eyes opened. It felt like someone had beaten me up because my brain was constantly buzzing, and burning.

It hurt so bad, I just wanted to curl up under the ground and never come out. I wanted to run away and never listen to anything ever again because doing that hurt.

I had my head ducked down between my knees, hands over my ears because I could hear everything. I could hear the gravel being kicked by the wheels from underneath the car. Randall's panicked breathing. Everytime Rick's wedding ring knocked the wheel was like torture.

But torture I felt like I deserved.

Soon enough, the car started to drive down the familiar road to the farm. I opened my eyes and looked out the window.

The thought of coming back here was never on my mind. I didn't want to come back.

But I had to.

I felt a nudge on my side and turned only a little, spotting Glenn in the corner of my eye.

"You okay?" he mouthed, cautious of Rick in front of me.

Rick had ordered everyone to be quiet after he had apparently scolded my words last night. But I didn't remember most of it.

In response to Glenn, all I could do was roll my eyes. "No," I sighed.

I didn't have a wink of sleep last night, to my eyelids felt like they have one hundred ton weights attached to them. But I couldn't sleep - I wasn't going to let myself fall unconscious next to Randall. No way.

I wasn't exactly ecstatic about going back, and the worst thing was that everyone else in the car were. Rick was speeding down the trail towards the farm. We had passed the gate and were only a mere minute away from those porch steps. With those people.

It seemed pretty cold-hearted of me to want to abandon everyone, and it was something I wanted but couldn't do.

I brought my head up from my palms to peek over the sill of the window, watching the trees start to surround the car and the dust starting to descend. This meant we were home.

_Home._

_How fucking funny is that?_

Once the car stopped, I swallowed thickly. I looked to the left across Glenn, seeing everyone start to congregate around the car.

I felt Glenn nudge me and realised he probably wanted to get out and reunite with Maggie. So I shakingly opened the door, hopping out and having to steady my legs. After Glenn walked out, I shut it, wincing as the sharp noise felt like it was cracking my skull.

At the corner of my eye, I saw Maggie bound towards Glenn and past her father. To which Glenn gave her a short hug and brushed her off. She then turned to me.

"Marley?" She furrowed her brows at me in an obvious mixture of curiosity and confusion.

"The one and only," I huffed. "Why?"

"We thought you were missing," she explained, as I slowly walked past her as Glenn had done, becoming more in view to everyone else. "We didn't know you'd gone with-"

"Marley?" Shane then said. He took half a step towards me. "That's where you were?"

Everyone's eyes were on me and I hated it. Shane, Lori, Carol, T-Dog, Carl... Daryl.

I puffed out my chest, then let out a large breath. "I went and got drunk with Hershel, yes," I confirmed. "But thanks for the concern." I didn't mean that. I didn't care.

"Patricia, prepare the shed for surgery," I heard Hershel say, thankfully taking a few eyes off me.

My legs were shaking uncontrollably, and despite the regular Georgian heat, I was actually shaking all over. I didn't know whether that was a symptom of sobering up or I didn't like all the eyes on me.

I wasn't paying attention to what anyone was saying. The concerned remarks were just background noise. Until T-Dog spoke up.

"Hey, who the hell is that?" he pointed to the boy in the backseat of the car. Randall had his neck relaxed, sighing probably from tiredness.

Glenn squinted, looking around to everyone. "That's Randall," he announced, allowing accusing eyes to place themselves on Rick.

As Randall was being sorted out, I decided to abandon any and all discussion about him and start walking to my camp.

And he was behind me.

I could tell because I doubt anyone else would. No one else would follow me. And the way his footsteps fell, slightly heavier on his left since he leaned that way when he was carrying his crossbow. I was too accustomed to it not to recognize it.

"You probably want to know what happened," I stated, stopping short and looking over my shoulder.

He stepped around me to being in front of me, towering over me. His eyes were soft, and my eyes aching and hard. It shouldn't be that way.

We were just in each other's presence for a moment before he spoke up. "Why'd you leave?" he asked, voice not matching up with his expression. It was almost angry.

I squinted at him, shaking my head; "I don't have to answer dumb questions," I said, brushing past him.

"It ain' dumb, Marley," he yelled after me, voice boiling.

"Yeah, well, when it comes from your mouth that's a pretty sound conclusion to pull," I muttered under my breath.

Before long, I felt a familiar hand grasp my wrist tightly, causing me to stop in my tracks and turn to him. I grabbed his own wrist and squeezed it as tight as I could.

"Listen here, you stupid bitch," he snarled. I didn't know whether his goal was to scare me or not, but it wouldn't have worked. "I don't know what you got in tha' head of yours lately, but you can't just live life however you want."

"Oh, what are you, my mother?" I spat, yanking my arm away from him. "I can do whatever the fuck I want, Daryl, no one in this fucking camp is in charge of me."

"This a game to you?"

"If it's exactly that, then I'm winning, sweetheart," I smiled, poking his chest with my index finger. "For once, in my life, I don't have some man dictating who I am, and I am not letting go of that so get off my back, catch some fucking squirrels and for once in these past few weeks, stop worrying about me - it's not getting you anywhere."

"What happened?" he growled, clearly not getting my message and grabbing my wrist again.

I huffed, brushing away some fallen hair. "In short, champagne for the pain, so they say." And, again, I tore my wrist from him. "I catch you giving me orders, or anyone telling me what to do, I will gladly cut off that hand." I pointed to the one that held me.

I picked up his wrist and dug my nails into it, clutching it tightly. He seemed unimpressed. "You'll end up losing the same appendage as your brother, sweetie."

He ripped his arm away from me, eyes going small as he kept a stare on me. "Y'all get off me," he spoke, sounding tired and grumpy. "You gonna get yourself in deep shit, Marley, if you don't stop acting like a bitch."

"You're gonna end up alone if you don't stop acting like yourself," I spat back. "Throw all the words at me, I don't care. You're just gonna get a wake-up call to all the names that correlate with you, in the process."

"Get out o' my way," he tore past me, hitting my shoulder so hard that I fell to the ground. Dust caught in my throat and I coughed, but couldn't help the giggle that left my lips.

"You. _Asshole_ ," I laughed, wiping the dirt from my eyes and watching as his steps faltered, walking towards our camp. "I guess we're both pieces of shit, huh?" I called after him, but he left me on the floor and really didn't care.

+

"We couldn't just leave him behind," Rick's voice echoed. The way the voices bounced off the walls within the house made it seem cold. Like the house actually had bones that could shatter, and that were filled with blood. "He would've bled out if he lived that long."

I crossed my arms over my chest, resting my back against the wall. I eyed the sheriff, really wanting to see if I bruised him where I punched him.

This time, Glenn speaks up. "It's gotten bad in town," he says somberly, looking ever so obviously at Maggie. It wasn't hard to tell that something happened. Something that made him realise... something.

"What do we do with him?" Andrea asked the big question, one I felt I knew how was going to be answered. A pathetic fucking answer. One I did not want to partake in because it was exactly that... _a pathetic fucking answer._

Rick went to answer before Hershel made himself known. "I repaired his calf muscle as best I can, but he'll probably have nerve damage. Won't be on his feet for at least a week."

Rick stood from his kneeling position on his chair. "When he is, we give him a canteen, take him out to the main road, send him on his way."

I turned my face into my shoulder, hiding my smile that I couldn't help.

As they continued to discuss what would happen to the pile of filth currently occupying oxygen in that barn, the hairs on the back of my neck stood on end as I heard the door to the house open and shut.

I looked over my shoulder, to see him. He was there again.

"You following me?" I raised an eyebrow.

"Don't flatter yourself," he mumbled, keeping quiet as possibly since the other voices in the room were getting louder as they argued more over Randall and what was going to happen to him.

I slid against the wall, stepping closer to Daryl. He shifted uncomfortably as his eyes almost got lost in his moody brow. He sighed heavily as our shoulders made contact.

I found it incredibly amusing.

I kept looking at his face and felt a twinge in my chest that I couldn't explain - like I was being told off. That I shouldn't be treating Daryl this way.

But Daryl wouldn't understand. I would explain and he would ignore. I know Daryl - he doesn't think I'm a bad person and that I can do certain things and convince him I was and could be effort I didn't have.

I knew I shouldn't be treating him this way.

But I just knew he wouldn't understand.

Not just him, but everyone else. They wouldn't listen. They couldn't.

And a tiny part of me didn't want them to.

I almost jumped out of my skin when Shane's voice ripped me from my thoughts and I looked to him.

"Look at this, folks-- we back in fantasyland," he chanted, walking under the lintel leading to the living room and out the dining room.

Hershel trailed after him and it was honestly like watching a soap opera. "You know, we haven't even dealt with what you did at my barn yet," he said pointedly, throwing the towel he had in his hands to the table in frustration. "Let me make this perfectly clear, once and for all-- this is my farm. Now I wanted you gone. Rick talked me out of it, but that doesn't mean I have to like it. So do us both a favor-- keep your mouth shut."

Hershel's attempt at talking shit to Shane honestly failed in my head. Because there was one thing that Shane was good at it and that was not keeping his mouth shut. When he had an opinion, his brain couldn't comprehend that other people had different ones.

Shane saw everyone's eyes on him, cocking his head from side to side. He looked like he was ready to explode, but he didn't, instead making a beeline for the exit.

Rick approached the old man but addressed everyone. "We're not gonna do anything about it today. Let's just cool off."

There was a long pause before everyone started to get up and leave. They were all silent, their stomachs must have been turning as they thought about our new arrival.

Cleared my throat, letting my arms relax at my side.

"You got something you want to say?" Rick's voice almost boomed. People's steps stopped, even including Daryl who had his hand placed on the door out.

"Provoking me will only highlight your b.s, Rick," I sighed, folding my arms over one another again.

"Is that it?" he growled, taking steps towards me but I cut him short.

"Don't come near me, Woody," I bit back, my feet staying glued to the floor. I sucked my teeth, my eyes burning into his. "Take a huge step back into your 'fantasyland'."

"Marley-" Glenn started.

"Don't! Don't fucking 'Marley' me!" my throat was raw and my words came out more scratchy than intended.

"Just like I said Shane, keep your mouth shut," Hershel decided to add. The only thing I could focus on was the blood on his white shirt, my eyes trailing there unwillingly.

Lori decided to speak up as well. "You need to calm down."

I eyed her, speaking to her through my teeth. "You can hardly parent your own son, you'll hardly be successful with me."

"What?" Someone said.

"You're becoming my problem, Marley," Rick accused.

My mouth opened and my eyes widened, but nothing came out for a moment as I looked to everyone's shocked faces. Then my eyes met Rick's again.

"You really want me to say it?" I smirked. "You want me to tell them that I tried to shoot the poor kid?"

I could hear at least one person suck in a breath, and I was honestly expecting a more audible sound, but it was obvious that people were now scared.

I stepped away from the wall, and Daryl tried to catch my arm but I flicked him away. I took steady steps towards the officer line I was walking the line in a field sobriety test. I visibly saw Rick's jaw clench and his chest rise and fall stone-like.

When I got close to his face, I brought my hands behind my back and tilted on my heels. "Well, there you go officer - a room full of people don't like me anymore, exactly the way you like it."

"Marl-" a bony hand grabbed my upper arm and I brought my elbow up, hearing the person grunt when I hit them. At this, Rick immediately grabbed me around my upper body, wrapping his arms around me like a hug but it was the total opposite. I couldn't move my arms, and he picked me up.

I grunted as he turned around. "What are you doing!" I yelled at the top of my lungs. When I saw that it was Lori who I had hit, I understood why Rick would suddenly become this physical with me.

My legs kicked his own, and I heard everyone yelling mine and Rick's name as he made his way to the front door, kicking it open with his foot. When he got to the edge of the porch, just before walking down the steps, he started talking. "Don't you dare do that again, you hear me?" he hissed, his face twitching.

With my hands bound to my side, my eyebrows drew together before I brought my head back, and bringing it forward even faster. He didn't see my forehead collide with the bridge of his nose, his arms immediately dropping me and my body making its way down the steps, my ribs colliding awkwardly with the last one and knocking the wind out of me.

I coughed into the dirt for the second time that day.

I didn't let myself rest as I clambered to my feet, seeing my work as Rick had his hand catching the blood that was currently spurting from his nose. Lori held her arms around him, looking from her husband to me sporadically.

Everyone had congregated on the porch, looking at me like I was a wild animal in a zoo.

"Marley?" a small voice rose amongst the chaos. It was behind me and I looked there to see the twelve-year-old, clad in his sheriff's hat. I choked on some saliva for a moment, my eyes prickling and I didn't know why.

His eyes went from me to his father.

"What happened?" he asked, gaining the ears of all the adults around him.

Lori stretched her hand out to her son, who ran towards her being encompassed in her arms as he still kept his eyes going between me and the dark red that now stained his father's hands and face.

Despite being socked in the nose, and having to speak through a thick liquid, Rick still. "Give me your gun." He stood straighter, wiggling his fingers at me like he had done in the bar.

"No."

"You don't have a choice."

"Try me, bitch."

"I'll ask you one more time."

"Do you want me to have to break your nose... _one more time_?"

Rick took half a step forwards, ignoring his wife who pleaded us both to stop this duel. Before he could even touch the ground, Daryl brought a hand to his chest, suddenly emerging from the crowd.

He looked between us. "That ain' helpin'," he said to Rick, before replacing his path with his own. He bounced down the steps, and I could tell he was uncomfortable under people's stares.

He got closer to me, holding out his hand. I backed away from him.

"Marley," he pleaded, but it came out in desperation and annoyance. An odd combination coming from him since he had never been much of an extinguisher in situations like these. "You're acting like a damn spoilt child."

"It's my gun."

"It'll still be your gun, Marls," he nodded, his face lowering to mine. "Look, I don't know what act you're pulling here, but it's gonna get ya' exiled if ya' keep at it... _sweetheart._ "

I reeled back my head, sucking in a breath. My chest felt stiff under his stare. He obviously grew impatient as I soon felt him undoing the buckles that lay across my chest, holding the way too big holster together.

"What I say about your hand?" I tried to hold it together, scrunching my eyebrows together in frustration. I felt like a child who was getting their candy taken away from them.

"Yeah, you may scare these assholes, but you don't even get me angry enough to kick yer ass," he muttered, too concentrated on undoing the holster.

"That doesn't make sense."

He only made a low noise as the guns fell from me and he was now holding them on the end of his finger as Andrea strode down to collect them.

And all I could do was stand there and look at him, as I was confused as to why my mind was breaking its own rules for him.

He looked to Andrea, who seemed to have least judgy eyes on the lot of them. "I got her."

Andrea nodded and turned around, waving to everyone. "All right, show's over people."

Surprisingly, everyone dispersed, either going back into the house or filtering around me and Daryl.

My teeth ground together, my eyes blinked fervently, and he just fucking stood there, staring back.

My hands clenched into tight fists beside me, my nails digging into my palms.

He eyed my hands, reaching down and uncurling my left one. "Don't do that," he said softly. "Don't make me sweep your mess up more times than I need, Marls." Under his breath, his voice sounded softer than he intended and I could it tell that it pained him to show how much he cared.

He brushed past me, almost knocking me to the ground.

 

 


	47. his cigarettes

**_Marley's P.O.V:_ **

When all were asleep, and darkness overcrowded the light - could I walk.

Only when people were inactive could I walk amongst them, but around and stepping over.

The blanket that gathered at my waist curled in my fingers, scratchy under my soft fingertips. I pulled it higher to be around my shoulders, the cold chill fluttering from my skin and a warmness seared my skin. It was an odd feeling.

My knees cracked as I slid up the tree I was leaning against, having to stop for a moment when my hair caught against the rough bark.

The grass was cool under my bare feet, sending chills up my legs and to my spin where an ache had set in. Sitting against a tree in the open air was no good for muscles or bones but I still did it.

Walking closer to the shed, it was eerily quiet. There wasn't even the crickets chirping like they did most nights, and it was so still most nights you could hear the river not far from the farm; the one that Daryl said he had fallen down. The little drips knocking through your ears like a badly made tap.

It was still... _still._ Just incredibly quiet, like someone had turned down the volume of the world for one night.

The shed seemed to be not guarded, but as I got closer, there was the telltale trail of white smoke trailing upwards by the door. On top of that, the wood of the shed seemed to give off a steam which I was certain was a trick of my eyes. The moonlight shooting through it. It reminded me of when you were in an enclosed space, and there was one crack that burst that space and a beam came through. You could see the dust falling through it, and it made your eyes hurt.

I clutched the blanket closer to me, the end of it dragging on the ground behind me.

I soon regretted not putting on some shoes when the path I was taking became riddled with small stones and caused me to have to tiptoe further.

He looked utterly bored, but I had to say the darkness suited him. His back rested against the rotting wood, one arm tucked around him, the other holding a cigarette between his index and middle finger. His eyes were shadowed because he had his head down, looking at me approaching him.

He blinked slowly, and I did it back. A word wasn't spoken between us as he took he space to his left, watching as he took another drag of his cigarette, the ash falling by my feet causing me to shuffled away from him slightly.

"Lovely," I muttered, giving him a smile he most definitely did not return.

He didn't say anything to me but I could tell he had a lot stored away inside his head to throw at me. All the insults that only suited me, the names, the orders. Everything Daryl ever said to me - I never felt like he was lying.

Except only a few times, but people are allowed to lie once in a while.

"They've got you guarding that piece of shit like a guard dog, Daryl," I stated evenly, watching him at the corner of my eye. "You don't have to follow Rick."

He stood from the wall, taking a few steps away from me so that his back was facing me. The wings on his leather vest were highlighted in the moonlight, and I wanted to get closer and admire the stitching.

I slid down the wall, the wood most probably giving me, at least, one splinter on my back. The ground below me was uneven and I took a moment to listen in on the boy inside. His breathing was slightly erratic and panicked. He sounded like he had been crying.

"Can I have one?" I called to Daryl, hoping he would come and sit down beside me.

He looked over his shoulder, eyeing me with a questionable look.

"One of those," I gestured to the cigarette in his hand and he finally caught on. He scoffed, shaking his head and blowing out the smoke I wanted to consume.

I had never smoked before, but I didn't doubt that I had somehow gotten second-hand just from being around Daryl, or the people back at 'The Castle'. There wasn't really a "no smoking" rule there when there really should have been. It only added to the concealed nature of what went on inside that club, among the strobe lights and fog. Sometimes you could hardly see your clients or your fellow girls.

"Please," I asked once again, taking my hand and running it through my hair, giving my scalp a massage for a relentless headache I was destined to get from my haywire sleeping schedule.

"They'll kill ya'," he argued, walking closer to me. He was now facing me, and I had to strain my neck to look him in the eyes.

"That's not a really good argument since, you're smoking them now," I smirked. I licked my lips, watching as he was trying his best not to talk to me.

"No," he said gruffly, not looking me in the eyes. He was a fair bit away from me as he, himself, sat down against the shed.

I crossed my legs, taking my hands and placing them on the ground to lift myself closer to him. Even when his face showed the least emotions, he still looked annoyed as hell.

Everything inside of me was screaming to apologize, or say something that wasn't teasing or mean towards him - but I found it hard, for some reason. So I started out small, wringing my hands together in my lap, where the blanket I had gathered.

I took a deep breath before talking. "Sorry, then." It felt weird to be apologising when I didn't want to. I felt like I deserved a million apologies from everyone, not necessarily the group - but a damn lot of people.

And I could probably name them all.

I paused before looking at him. He'd stopped smoking and looked at me with a confused stare.

"For telling you that you'll end up alone," I explained. "Let's be real here, between us, I'll be the one ending up alone." I looked around us for a moment, taking in the scenery that was hardly visible, only to look at him again and find that he hadn't moved his stony look away from me.

I visibly swallowed.

"Or better yet," I whispered. "Dead."

"Don't," he said immediately after. "Just... don't."

"What?" I asked, my eyes glistening. My breaths were heavy and I bit my bottom lip before continuing. "I don't deserve what you do." I shook my head, hair falling in my eyes and going between my eyelashes. It hurt slightly but I didn't wipe it away. "You deserve so much better than my company."

"Is this you tryin' to apologise," he sighed, finishing off his cigarette and stamping it out on the ground beside him.

"Kinda," I whispered again. My voice hurt from the screaming, drinking, and yelling. "I was only lying about you, to you, to hurt you."

"And then I realised you don't deserve it. But you're the only person I'm going to say sorry to. Everyone on this goddamn farm can--"

"Marls," he interrupted.

I looked to him, the words sucked back into my throat and hanging on the edge of my tongue. He had another cigarette between his fingers, pointed towards me.

"Really?"

He simply dropped it in my lap and shuffled around his pockets, patting his chest until he found a lighter - dropping that in my lap.

"Don't _eve_ r ask again," he growled. He was obviously territorial over his smokes, and I could tell that it was a real internal battle on considering to give me one. "Ever."

I nodded, carefully picking up the death-stick.

I had never smoked before, and I was always the person so adamant to keep it that way. Amongst other things like pretty girls with tempting white lines beside them, along with even prettier girls breathing hot, sizzling air onto your tongue before kissing you.

I missed being surrounded by pretty girls but the vices that came with those cushioned and colourful rooms was not what I needed any more.

They used to be a slight comfort, even if I was sober and covered in toxic skin-on-skin action.

Now when I was trying to find better comforts, I was failing, and it was shown through the tobacco that was hanging between my teeth.

I had seen people do it before, especially after the long rides sitting beside Daryl - it seemed that smoke was a familiar image in the best and worst ways.

I turned on the lighter, bringing it to the end of the cigarette whilst sucking in any air I could.

"You ever smoked one before?" Daryl prodded, his voice shocking me and causing the lighter to drop onto my lap and burn my thumb in the process.

"Ah, you-- ah," I hissed, putting my thumb in my mouth to try and neutralise the crawling bacteria-like stinging that was spreading across my fingerprint.

I turned to him for the millionth time that night. I lifted an eyebrow and he looked oblivious as to why I did that.

He got my goddamn thumb burnt.

"No," I admitted spitefully. I picked up the lighter again only for him to snatch it from my much smaller hands and pull out his own cigarette, placing it between his lips, and lighting it within seconds like a pro.

"Like that," he said simply, not really giving the best instructions.

I huffed, holding out my hand for him to give the lighter back. And he did, placing it at the start of my fingers and trailing his own to the end of them. He watched me intently, waiting for me to do something. And I did, imitating him as best I could only for me to break out into a spluttering cough.

It burned - which was a cliché way of describing it, but it was true. My lungs felt like they had been skinned. That told me that I was probably doing it all wrong but I didn't know how. It tasted like burnt leather, and my sinuses tingled and I felt like I needed to sneeze.

In short, it was kind of awful.

But my chest felt warm like I had just taken a gulp of wine, the cigarette was hot between my fingers in an otherwise chilly setting.

I saw him at the corner of my eye, watching me intently.

Daryl seemed unimpressed.

"Whatever," I mumbled, balancing the cigarette between my lips, the smoke coming from my tongue and nose. "I meant it, by the way."

"Meant what?" His eyes glided themselves over the expansion of my face. I didn't think he knew I could tell that he was watching my eyes, cheeks, nose, and lips.

"You're not gonna end up alone," I smiled for what felt like the first time in a long while that my lips curved for a good reason. "You're gonna make someone a wonderful husband one day, Daryl."

I, of course, wasn't accustomed to the idea of someone else being with him. I felt almost territorial about it - I had always felt that about him. Like I needed to keep him away from people who might play with his emotions and take him for granted. It wasn't my place to do so, but if someone took him for a fool and made him do things he didn't want to or someone led him on, I don't think I could refrain myself from getting involved.

I looked to him, and he immediately turned his head away.

"Are you even listening to me?" I asked quietly, sucking in a breath.

He simply coughed which I took as a very annoyed "no".

We sat there for a moment, basking in the silence and scent of burning tobacco. Daryl took more drags of his whilst I went at it like a picky child with their food, interchanging hands and staring at the burning end for long moments at a time.

"Do you think I'm a bad person?" I whispered, suddenly feeling like there was something stuck in my throat. I could breathe, but it felt like someone had their hands placed around my throat, seconds away from pressing their thumbs down on my windpipe. I didn't like that feeling, it made me feel weak. "Daryl?"

I wanted a worded answer from him since those were always more sincere.

My eyes were level with his shoulder, and I looked up to him, licking my dry lips. The cigarette in my hand brushed the back of my thumb and left a searing sensation there.

His eyes were hooded when they met mine, and I could hardly see the blue of his iris. I saw his adam's apple bob before he spoke.

"You ain' bad, Marls," he whispered, and the sincerity in just voice struck a cord within me. "The bad things just keep finding ya'."

"You really believe what you just said?"

"I ain' gonna say it again," he said back quickly, a sharp tone in his voice, turning away from me and placing the cigarette back between his teeth and letting his tongue tilt it ever so often.

That reminded me of mine, and I took one last, long drag of it before putting it out on the ground, feeling guilty for wasting one of Daryl's cigarettes when he could have had it himself.

I bit the side of my tongue, watching the end of his own sizzle and decay whenever he sucked in his cheeks. His arms were rested atop his knees and his chest rose and fell in such a steady manner than I was jealous. His eyes faced downwards towards the floor, so I could see the purplish veins scattering his eyelids, that were hooded so you really had to be looking to see them.

He must have seen me selfishly staring because he ended up looking back for a while. I honestly hadn't noticed since I was busy mapping out the faint lines that painted his stubble covered cheeks.

I licked my lips, the faint taste of tobacco still coating them and being similar to that of soap.

Instead of looking away I decided to speak. "I helped Shane kill Otis." My voice was just below a whisper as if I was surrounded by a thousand people and I only wanted him to hear.

There was a silence that seeped into my skin after that, the veins in my eyes burning as I tried to keep them open and focused on his to try and spot any faults within him - so that I could genuinely know if he felt like I wasn't a bad person.

He let out a heavy sigh. "I know."

That fact did not seem to affect him at all. He saw what I was - in every light - and he seemed indifferent. I didn't know how he could do that, compared to everyone else.

I looked away from him, over to the lock that was hooked on the door of the shed.

When turned my head, towards Daryl again, he wasn't looking at me anymore.

I took my arm away from being tangled within my blanket, swerving it in the space between Daryl's back and the surface of the wall. The side of my thumb grazed his waist, my wrist feeling the fabric of his leather vest and the messy stitching that held it together. As my arm lowered, I head Daryl's breath stop for a moment, then resuming in the quietest fashion.

My cheek was pressed against his shoulder, the heat of him rubbing off on me and soothing my tired eyes as I closed them, and I felt my eyelashes press against his jacket.

I got to his hips, my knees coming up in front of me and my ankles pressing against his thigh. When my fingers pressed against the pocket of his trousers, I stopped, my knuckles bumping against the holster of his knife.

I heard him suck in a breath from above me. "I'm gonna take a piss," he announced, abruptly leaning forward and getting up from the ground. He left me feeling cold and empty. A feeling you felt when you needed someone and they just weren't there.

My arm stayed in the position it was, my fingers curling, keeping my hand absolutely still.

I watched Daryl turn the corner, walking away. I also felt the cold metal on the skin of my palm, the end of the old key sticking into it.

I felt absolute, fucking guilt.

_But it was my turn._

I quickly stood up, abandoning the blanket, going to the door and messing with the lock and key until it opened. The hinge luckily didn't creek, and I slipped in, thankful I hadn't put on my loud boots before coming here. I took out Daryl's lighter, flicking it on and walking further to the young man that was huddled next to the wall, a handcuff scorching his wrist.

He seemed to be sleeping, but with my daunting footsteps.

"Wha-who? Who's there," he whispered, anxiety lacing his voice.

I crouched down on one knee, the lighter in my hand and it's wavering flame seeming to be Randall's focus point. "You don't need to know my name, Randall."

My eyes had all their emotions wiped away from them, replaced with pent up rage and a weird sense of desire - and not the good kind.

His breaths quickened as I brought the lighter closer to his face. He backed away as far as he could against the wall and when he tried to talk again, I switched to lighter off and took his chin in my hands, jerking him forward.

"Listen here," I hissed. "I don't like you. I have a gut feeling that you're not worth anyone's trouble. And I also have a feeling that I'm correct. I just came in here to give you a little pep talk and a few select words you should pay really close attention to."

"If you've met me then that means that you're not making it out of this situation alive."

His eyes were wide and scared, welling up as he shook in my grasp. The only sound then was his heavy and panicked breathing, my own, and the clattering of his handcuff against the metal pipe it was connected to.

"And sweetheart... you've already met me twice."

My thumb stung as I flicked the lighter on again, just as it was placed near the skin on the underside of his chin.

He yelped out in pain, but before he could make any more sound I shoved him back against the wall. I heard his spine bounce against the wood, and I stood and turned back to the door. I walked briskly away from his pathetic whimpers and small concentrated cries - and the darkness that he would sleep in, to the moonlit dirt landscape.

And _he_ was there, arms by his sides, palms inwards as he watched me step down from the ledge and to the height he was used to seeing me at.

The keys jangled in the air as I took steady steps towards him, so close that I could feel his hot breath fanning over the top of my heads.

I took his hand in mine, placing the keys and his lighter there, and closing his calloused fingers over them. I stood on my toes, to where my nose was almost level with his and I spoke a quiet decibel for only us to hear, _ever._

"This'll be our little secret."

 

 


	48. red

After so long feeling nothing but dirt, metal, and blood; plastic really wasn't on my list of daily occurrences. Just once every day.

And mistakingly twice.

The surface was squeaky between the pads of my finger, rolling the bottle in my hands back and forth, feeling the lip of the sticker on it faintly scratching me.  
  
  


_"I'm telling you to stay away from Carl."_   
  
  


I felt like those words were slowly chipping away at me, at the back of my brain. I bit my lip, tossing the bottle to my left hand, repeating my actions there.

I squeezed it, the material caving in and digging into my hand even more. There was, unfortunately, no more pills to stop the bottle from not becoming a complete mess of crushed plastic.

The back of my throat tasted like metal, biting back at me from where I couldn't reach. My lips tasted like sea salt, being worn and chipped - nearly bleeding.

More shuffling sounded behind me and my eyelids drooped lazily from boredom. The shed door was locked and _he_ was in there.

It had been six days since we'd captured the kid named Randall, and six days of being watched in the daylight. Six days of everyone keeping their distance. Six days of staring and judging and goddamn waiting.

Waiting for Rick and his " _leadership qualities_ " to kick in and for him to get rid of the problem that was Randall.

Then, instead of dealing with that, he risked himself and his friend to try and exile Randall on the side of a road.

It ended how expected and Shane and Rick started trading haymakers on the gravel, coming back, each with small trails of blood and wounds on their face.

Even if they didn't say, I could tell that it wasn't anyone but either of them did that.

_Stupid, stupid._   
  
  


_"_ _You_ _and_ _Shane_ _have gone too far."_  
  
  


I heard grunting from inside the shed, also whimpering.

Skin was being bruised and all I could think about it was that the skin was not mine, rightfully so.

The scenery around me tilted for a moment, throwing me left but I managed to hold my balance. My sporadic bursts of vertigo were inconvenient and getting worse.

I crossed my arms over my chest, taking the fabric of my dark blue shirt in my hands.

I blew away my hair, turning on my heels to face the shed, placing my hands on each side of my head and leaning in to press my ear to the wood.

The talking was indistinctive, rushed, and breathy.

I closed my eyes, trying to concentrate on the noises to try and decipher something.  
  
  


_"Hershel_ _won't_ _allow_ _you_ _in the house unless, for desperate measures, he_ _doesn't_ _want_ _you_ _near his family."_   
  
  


Daryl had locked the door of the shed, with him inside and Randall a victim to his fists. When Shane and Rick came back with him, it was a quiet discussion before Daryl knew what he had to do.

And I knew too.

I could smell the blood. I could only just see Daryl's storming figure pacing back and forth, through the gaps in the panels. I could hear Randall begging for his own good.

"One night, we-- we found this campsite. A man and his two daughters."

My ears perked up as somehow did Daryl's, because he wasn't threatening him anymore, and I could tell he was listening intently to what he had to say.

"Teenagers, you know."

Randall's depth about his anecdote was what turned my stomach, made my chest almost stop moving because he seemed to think it was a story worth telling.

"Real young. Real _cute._ "

My ears burned and I couldn't fully understand the emotions that were brewing inside of me. All negative. All horrid. All ready to do something about Randall.

"Their daddy had to watch while these guys they-- they..."

I brought my head down to the wood, hitting it hard - almost hard enough to send me to the floor.

"And they didn't even kill 'em afterwards. They just--"

I brought my lips to the surface, whispering tauntingly. "Daryl," I swallowed hard, my voice rising as I felt the veins in my neck enlarge. "You need to fucking let me in... _now_."

I understood all too well what I wanted to do, and I didn't give a crap about how bad it was.

All I cared about was how Randall was sitting cosily in a shed when he let two girls get ripped of their souls.

When he let that happen, and he's still here.

He's still alive.

Daryl didn't answer me, instead, Randall speaking up worriedly. "Is that her?"

"Shut up." Daryl seemed to be ignoring me.

"I-- I didn't touch those girls."

My voice was almost barbaric. "Let. Me. In. Now."

Again, no answer from the man.

So I took matters into my own hands, stepping away from the door to view my surroundings. I walked around to the right of it, looking up and seeing any way in.

There were some open rafters, broken pieces of wood falling and rotting.

Below that was an ever so convenient pile of wood, against the protruding beams.

I grabbed onto them, lifting myself up onto the wood. I planted my foot on the wall, grabbing the edge of the roof and Swinging my legs over so I could half-lie there.

Steadily standing up, the wood creaked beneath my weight.

I grabbed the broken wood, pieces of it piercing my skin. I pulled on it with all the strength I could muster.

It didn't seem to need that much, because it immediately tore away, falling to the ground; my blood stained on it, at the right-hand corner and immediate middle.

"Marley."

He finally said my name, but it was all too late. He must have underestimated - and I seemed to have too.

Because all I heard was my name, and all I saw was my thumbs pressing firmly into Randall's windpipe.

Daryl stood to the side of me, the corner of my eye only just catching his agape expression. His eyes trained between the top of my head and my victim's purpling, gurgling face.

Randall spluttered out incoherent beggings, moving his shoulders weakly because he didn't have his hands to try and pry me away.

I felt his throat constricting in my hands, his small pulse and I could see in his eyes that he was really, really scared.

He was frightened - and I would be too.

"I did-- I didn't, please," he somehow said.

" ** _But you let it happen!_** " I'm sure my words could be heard from heaven to hell, because they were so guttural. The intensity and volume made me feel like I wouldn't have any words left to say. " ** _You let it happen, Randall!_** "

" ** _You let it happen!_** "

It had been eight seconds since Randall couldn't breathe, and in those I had finally understood what "seeing red" meant.

It's when you don't care.

It's when the urge to harm another human being is so strong and ingrained that there's no thinking. There's no stalling to figure out the "how" "why" and "where" of the situation. You just do.  
  
  


" _Just be quiet. You'll be fine._ "  
  
  


I found myself liking how my hands held utter control over Randall's feeble life. How I was slowly watching his desperate eyes glaze over with the lids fluttering. How I stood over Randall and I could kill him, then and there, without flinching, because he let that happen.

I truly wanted to kill Randall, and I was going to enjoy doing it.

I gritted my teeth, clenching my hands as hard as I could and then some. His neck made a distinct noise, being similar to the sound of squeaking styrofoam. My eyes widened as his started to shut, red appearing at the sides and being painted all over mine. His face seemed to swell but I kept going.

Randall let that happen to those girls.

I couldn't hear anything. All of it was blurring out as I furrowed my brows, determined to finish the job.

"Stop!"

Arms grabbed my own, much stronger than mine and pulling me backwards. I reached forward desperately, yelling out and almost crying because Randall took a breath in.

And then took a breath out.

" ** _Let go of me!_** " I screamed, being let to the ground only for my hands to claw at the air.

Me and Daryl fell to the ground as my legs kicked out, and he landed on top of me. My chest took most of his weight, knocking the wind out of me. Daryl grasped my shoulders, yelling into the air, my name, multiple times.

I wouldn't let up, still seeing red and unable to wipe it away.

"No!"

Randall lay there on the ground, shuffling away from my form that was being dragged away. And I _hate_ d that.

It was like taking candy away from a crying child, the way Daryl lifted me away from my prize and pushing me against the wall and into the corner of the shed.

It was animalistic to way my muscles were burning with adrenaline and bloodlust that I found a tiny part of me being scared... of myself.

_How can you be scared of yourself?_

"Come on, Marls, don't do this now," Daryl advised, his voice rough and accent cutting through the fog-like state that was red. "Don't matter who you want to take orders from or not, just don't do this now."

Like a car losing fuelling, my hands fell limply on Daryl's biceps, my fingers gripping his tanned skin and grounding myself the best I could.

Daryl had his hand in the space between my collarbone and neck, his other at the front of my hip.

My back was against the wall but my eyes were glued to the fish-out-of-water like state I had left Randall in.

"I didn't do--"

"Shut it, you lil' shit," the man in front of me cut him off before I could. Daryl had his eyes looking at the space behind me, unable to meet my eyes which begged to be bored into his. "C'mon."

Before I knew it, I was outside again, tilting my head and cracking my neck. I felt like my stomach was full of smoke and steam, rage stored inside me and bubbling to the surface with no means of escape.

It was meant to be for Randall, but Daryl tore that away from me and I had nothing now. I needed something.

Was this what Jimmy fucking Blake felt like when he saw me? Was I a fucking opportunity, to take all his rage out on?

The world was spinning around me, kiltering from left to right and my ankles gave out from beneath me, forcing my body to the ground. Daryl nearly crouched down to catch me but I shoved his hands away and got myself back up.

"Fuck," I whispered, interlocking my hands behind my head and pacing on the spot. The silence he was giving me annoyed me like he didn't feel the need to shout at me or tell me off, because this wasn't right.

I wasn't right.

" ** _Fuck!_** " The wall of the shed felt like it had shattered the bones in my shoulder, as I rushed left and barged into it - once, twice, three times. I lost count as my fists were brought into play and the skin on my knuckles started to split.

The thing was, the skin never split on the actual knuckle, it split in between, causing each clench and tap to be like a beesting times one thousand.

Throwing my body against the shed wasn't doing it for me. The red was still there, and I knew what I needed to do to get rid of it.

I screamed and cried, lashing out against an inanimate object, heartbeat thumping in my ear like a war drum.

Daryl stood off to the side until it seemed like too much for him, and he grasped my shoulder pulling me away from the shed and trying to restrain my limbs from hurting myself anymore. But the damage was already done and it was always going to be there. I didn't change, I just unfolded. Deeper parts of me were rebirthed and the monster that I always was and will aways be was brought into the light.

There was no undoing that damage.

"Please, don't," I warned, stepping away from my friend and wrapping my arms around myself, hooking my nails into my skin and turning so my back was facing him. My breathing quickened, my whole body was shaking and I had this gut feeling that catching my breath was going to be extremely hard.

I uncurled my fingers, looking down at my hands and the way the blood looked so at home there. My shaking skin cradling the red I had put there, painted neatly in the lines on my palm. It flowing through the creases and plains of my skin - only for it to never be there at all.

Just the bruises and gashes on my knuckles.

"What are ye' doing, Marls?"

I swallowed, turning to him and slightly hiding behind my hair. I still couldn't fully catch my breath, my spine starting to hurt from my muscles contracting oddly and at a pace, my lungs couldn't catch up with.

"We both know what this is," I said, keeping my voice level. "And we both know what it's like to be in the way of such things."

I walked forward a bit more until the toes of my shoes were almost touching his. He was giving off a temperature that was comforting, and odd, considering it was coming from Daryl Dixon. But he didn't step away, which I liked.

"And I don't want to hurt you." I almost choked on the words. "Not you... just-- not you." I waved him away, going to walk somewhere away from him but I stopped in my tracks and stayed where I was; my shoes still parallel with his.

I reached down and took his left hand in both of mine in front of us both, gently rubbing the pad of my thumb across the blood and gashes that mirrored my own.

"I want to ask you to stay away from me," I whispered, unable to meet his eyes, to I stared at the buttons holding his shirt together.

"Then why don't you?"

I took a deep breath in, holding in any emotion I could that wouldn't cause me to blubber and cry in front of Daryl. "Because for some stupid reason, you keep coming back."

I finally saw him, his face guarded and confused, an expression of recoil.

"You keep coming back when everyone else has left. And I kind of need that."

He tore his hand away, stepping backwards and almost giving me whiplash at how fast things had become. His shoulders squared as he stood tall over me like he was trying to intimidate me.

"You know, if you didn't do shit like this, you wouldn't be so alone," he snarled. I honestly didn't know where this came from, but I knew he was telling the truth. "Yeah, shit's happened to you, me too, you don't see me tryna knock everybody out."

"I kno-"

"What? You want me to hold yer hand through this shit?"

"No! Just don't leave. You don't have to do anything... well-- maybe just don't get in my way."

He huffed, his eyes stormy and darkening as they looked at my own.

I spoke last words that had no finality, leaving our relationship still an open book. "You should _never_ get in my way."

I turned abruptly on my heel, making sure Daryl wouldn't get in my rage's way.

My rage was a monster that was hungry and almost uncontrollable. It wasn't a separate soul, it was an attachment to my own. Whatever souls were made of, mine was coloured red and was reaching out to try and releave the steam building up in the inner workings.

I turned to make sure I wouldn't hurt Daryl. Away from that shed.

That damned shed where I had unfinished business.

+

  
Rick was a mixture of rights and wrongs. He had finally issued a kill order on the despicable Randall, although Dale detested against this.

But right now he was trying his best to tie a noose with the dirty rope he had found in the barn. The barn had held so much death is seemed Randall's would probably spill it over and cause the barn to simply fall apart from grief.

I placed my hands on my hips, looking up at the man standing on the upper level, his eyes scanning the beams.

"You're tying that wrong," I called out to him. His head jolted to face me, his eyes squinting for a moment and his head tilting to the left. "You didn't even start out right."

He sighed heavily, turning to face the opening on the higher level, the one that allowed you to see the forest for miles.

I jogged to the ladder, taking each step carefully until I was level with the ex-sheriff. He didn't want to look me in the eyes. And rightfully so, I didn't want him to.

I held my hand out for him to give me the rope, and with a pained expression he did.

I started to tie the noose in my small hands, my eyebrows furrowing in concentration.

"For a cop, you don't really have a clue of how to kill people, do you?"

He didn't answer, instead, he asked a question, one I was happy to answer truthfully because I was tired of lying when people already saw me as the monster I was. "How'd you know how to do that?"

I paused the activity, eyes closing for a second as I flipped through the pages of my memory to try and see how I felt when I was going to do what I always should have done.

With a steady voice, I answered. "I tried to kill my boyfriend."

I didn't look up to see his reaction, instead staring off into space as the grooves of the thick rope dug into my hands, burning them. I continued.

"I was going to make it look like a suicide. Men tend to have more violent suicides, unlike women who worry about who has to clean the mess up. I didn't have a gun, just rope... and it doesn't even work that well. You're supposed to aim for breaking their neck, but half the time they just choke to death. But that didn't matter to me - I was ready to do it. Everything was there to do it. I was ready.

"But I couldn't."

At the corner of my eye, I saw him go from foot to foot, shuffling closer to me so that we could speak quieter.

Carl was just outside.

Rick tried to put words in my mouth. "You couldn't because you...? Because you realise--"

"No!" I cut him off, my eyes meeting his own and burning red hot from anger. My hands clenched and unclenched, as my legs carried me closer to the man who seemed... scared. I hissed at him, hoping to get my fucking point across. "I couldn't, because mere hours before I could do anything, he beat the holy hell out of me. I was bedridden for five days."

" _That_ was why I couldn't!"

"I'm not like this because I want to. I'm not like this just because. I'm like this because of _that_. But you wouldn't fucking understand."

I threw the rope at his feet like it was spit and he was a grave I could walk all over.

 


	49. tired

Daryl liked his solitude. He didn't love it, but he did like it.

It was a constant - one of the only constants in his life. It was always there, and it seemed he had made a friend with solitude in the strangest ways.

When he needed it, it was most likely there.

So something that would come between him and his lone wolf status wouldn't be met with the kindest eyes or the most welcoming arms. It would take a while for it to be accepted in his relationship with solitude.

Solitude was always going to be there, no matter what. Daryl would rather choose solitude than cold kisses; if it wasn't love, it was poison.

A bottle of bloody liquor wasn't very tempting when one couldn't tell if it was the blood of the heart or blood of the mind. One tasting vibrant and warm, feeling like stars were being born in your stomach and brain, lighting up every nerve you could think of.

But the blood of the mind was cold, it was ashy. It was built from smoke and dark crystals mixed with dragon fire and fallen snow.

The mind was a cold dark place and it was freezing in there, by yourself. It was nothing but mechanisms unless paired with a soul, thus making a heart.

And it seemed that Marley was all mind at the moment.

Daryl really didn't know if Marley had a heart anymore. But he understood. You can't just come out the other side and always have a heart. You can't keep it when you want to do what she wants to do.

Daryl knew Marley better than anyone else at the farm, maybe even anyone else ever, and he knew that she wanted to kill Randall. And he was going to let her do it, after everything she's being through he was going to let her have that " _win_ ". She hadn't won a lot, but he was going to give her it.

But giving her that would have had disastrous consequences that could possibly get her exiled.

He _didn't_ want her to get exiled.

So after all the times he had protected her from walkers and people, he decided it was time that she maybe needed to be protected from herself.

He knew her, so he knew what she was capable of.

And he knew that people should be scared.

_Dare Daryl think that he wasn't scared of her?_

Maybe it was because he knew her too well. But in reality, Daryl didn't know her at all. There were things he didn't know about her. Things she's done. Things that have happened to her.

He knew enough to know that what Marley was doing, it was all plausible. Everyone thought she had done a " _one-eighty_ " and her actions came out of nowhere.

They didn't.

Her mind and body were sick of being the victim, and Marley was sick of looking at her hands and seeing none other than her own blood. She wanted control, she never had it, and now she did.

Daryl fiddled with the arrows that lay across the log in front of him, hearing approaching footsteps and sighing when his eyes caught Dale coming towards him.

"The whole point of me coming up here's to get away from you people," he kept his gaze on the work in front of, working faster so he wouldn't have to speak to the old man. He would give it to Dale, that he was determined.

"Gonna take a lot more than that," Dale replied, throwing a stray thin branch to the side.

Daryl racked his brain, remembering the way Carol suddenly had become quite invested in seeing Daryl. "Carol send you?"

Dale lifted a foot to place it on higher ground. He didn't speak much to Daryl, so he didn't have a pre-assessed way to converse with the lone wolf. "Carol's not the only one concerned about you, an-- you're new role in the group." He spoke calmly, watching Daryl place arrows in a tiny holster attached to his crossbow.

Daryl had lost most of his arrows down that ravine, and he would much rather spend a few hours making new ones out of old wood and feathers than try to climb up that hill again, with Merle at his ear and Marley in his eyes.

Daryl sighed heavily again. "Man, I don't need my head shrunk," finally, he had finished with his arrows and could stop talking when he didn't want to talk. "This group's broken. I'm better off fendin' for myself."

Of course, Daryl was never fending for just himself. He hadn't just been fending for himself for a long while now - it seemed it was gonna stay that way.

Dale lifted his eyebrows. "You act like you don't care."

"Yeah, it's cause I don't," Daryl brushed off Dale's attempt to try and, as he said, shrink his head. He reached over to his jacket hung on the old brick furnace, swinging it onto his arms.

"So, live or die, you don't care what happens to Randall?"

" _Nope_."

"Then why not stand with me, try to save the kid's life?" Dale tried his best to sink his words into Daryl somehow but he really didn't have the power to. He wasn't one of the people who could, unfortunately for him.

"Didn't peg you for a desperate son o' bitch," Daryl straightened out his clothes.

Dale paused for a moment. "Your opinion makes a difference."

"Man, ain' nobody be looking to me for nothin'," Daryl finally swung his crossbow over his shoulder, carrying himself away from Dale and towards anywhere he could be alone and be left to his thoughts. To plan; figure out what the hell he was doing for Marley.

Dale's voice carried to his ears, stopping him in his tracks. "Carol is-- and I am, right now." Dale swallowed heavily. "You know Marley always has, and you've always answered."

Daryl chewed on the inside of his cheek, closing his eyes for a moment - like her name was a headache, and it just sent a wave of pain through his brain.

Dale knew his weakness, unfortunately for Daryl.

"And you obviously have Rick's ear."

Daryl turned on his heel, his beady eyes defensive and his posture guarded, intimidating. "Rick just looks to Shane. Let 'im."

Daryl tried to turn away again, only for the old man to keep at it, only annoying Daryl further. "You _cared_ about what happened to Sophia." Dale waited until the man was facing him fully again, seeing Daryl's shoulders slump in exhaustion. "Cared what it meant to the group."

Daryl's face was full of anger and annoyance. He really didn't want to talk to Dale about his so-called _"new role in the group"_. Daryl didn't want to hear it, people sucking up to him. He felt too vulnerable for it.

"Torturing people, that isn't you," Dale reasoned. "You're a decent man; so is Rick."

Daryl was now face-to-face and closer to Dale, a challenging glance set in his eyes, daring the old man to try and get under his skin, knowing that he couldn't succeed that well.

"Shane," he pointed a finger at the redneck. "Is different."

Daryl knew he would have said Marley's name too if he was brave enough.

"Why's that, cause he killed Otis," Daryl said oh-so-calmly. Daryl really wasn't as dumb of a redneck as everybody thought. He knew that Otis' death wasn't an accident, even before Marley sat beside him in the moonlight and trusted him enough to say the truth.

Dale's face dropped at the confession. "He tell you that?" Dale questioned. When he got no response from the younger, he questioned even further. "Did Marley tell you something?"

A sudden anger surged through Daryl's body, his limbs going stiff and tense. He looked at Dale through furrowed brows, growling his answer. "No," he answered. "Shane told some story, 'bout how Otis covered 'em. Saved their asses. Showed up with a dead guy's gun."

"Rick ain't stupid, the only reason he didn't figure that out is 'cause he didn't wanna."

Daryl swiftly turned around for the hundredth time that conversation. "Like I said, this group's broken."

Daryl nearly got away, but Dale wasn't going to leave him without having some sort of impact on Daryl. And Dale would try any means to do so.

"What about Marley?" Dale's voice wavered at the end of his question, just at the start of her name. Dale watched Daryl stop walking, placing his feet firmly into the ground, his left hand clenching tightly around the strap of his weapon.

"What about her?"

"You know she's changed. You know that Shane has messed with her ever since that night."

"What can I do about it? I can't do nothin'." Daryl shook his head somberly, disbelieving his own words. He was unable to meet Dale's expression which was piercing into the back of his skull.

"Daryl," he sighed dumbfoundedly. "It's Marley we're talking about here. It's a universal fact that it's always you and Marley. Where there's Marley there's Daryl - and where there's Daryl there's Marley."

"Of course, there's something you can do. I doubt anyone else can. She shouldn't be acting this way. It's not her. She's being brainwashed, Daryl."

Daryl finally had enough of it, turning and dropping his crossbow, pointing accusingly at Dale, getting in his face - Daryl was unable to conceal the protectiveness he had for the redhead, which had manifested every since he met her. "Y'all just don't understand."

"Then help me understand, Daryl."

Daryl swiped his tongue across his lip, hardening his stare on the person in front of him. "Marley's... _Marley_. She's complicated."

"How so?"

"Been through some shit."

"We've all been through that. She shouldn't be acting this way, she's acting dangerous."

Daryl leaned to the left, lifting an eyebrow and speaking mockingly in a gruff voice. "' _We've all been through that_ ', that's bullshit. Ain't nobody can go through what she's been through and act like a saint, old man."

Daryl kicked the dirt on his walk away, picking up his crossbow on the way, his jaw hurting from the yelling and the way he clenched it whenever Dale would mention her.

 

+

 

"Let's gather up," Rick called out to everyone gathered by the house.

The sky was turning a burnt orange, a sea of different colours painting itself over the horizon.

"Hey, Marley," a voice to my left said. I turned to see Shane looking down at me as I sat on the dry dirt, just at the edge of the stairs leading up to the porch. "Y'alrigh'?"

I fiddled with my fingers in my lap, keeping my hard stare on him. His eyes were soft and welcoming, genuinely concerned.

I felt like I couldn't believe any of that; I wouldn't allow myself.

"I'm not allowed in the house," I mocked, smiling up at him with my teeth.

"I'm sure they wouldn't mind just this once," he lifted an eyebrow, hooking his thumbs in the belt loops of his trousers. "I'm not even sure they'll notice, anyways."

He faced the palm of his hand towards me, inviting me to stand up. And I took it, letting him lift me off the ground so I could follow him into the Greene house. My legs wobbled alarmingly, my chest feeling tight.

"You're not fine, are you?" Shane asked me, casting a glance over his shoulder. "I can tell you don't agree with keeping Randall alive."

I shook my head from side to side, facing him as we stood on the porch together. I licked my lips before speaking darkly. "First: I've never been fine. Second: I agree wholeheartedly that Randall doesn't belong in this world, he belongs in hell - and six-feet under is close enough."

He nodded, agreeing, before walking away from me so he could stand on the other side of the room where the fireplace was. I took a few steps backward, staying away from most people's eyes. I had walked into someone's body, looking behind me and seeing Daryl.

He was leant against a small cabinet that had a round mirror hanging above it. I avoided the mirror, only for a moment, seeing the incredibly dark circles surrounding my eyes and my gaunt cheekbones. Malnourishment, dehydration, sickness, and insomnia had taken its toll on my body. My body was just tired and off balance.

My body was tired and I looked no better than the monster's we put down. I was a monster among monsters.

I crossed my arms over my chest, letting my shoulders slump and myself relax slightly despite my standing position. I stood to the left and behind Daryl, his left arm bumping my right shoulder.

The Grimes family was the last to enter the small room, Carl trying to sneak into the debate, only for us all the stare at him until he went upstairs. His father was the final pair of eyes set on him in a warning expression, as the young sir scurried up the stairs.

Out of everyone there, the Greene's were lazily off to the side whilst Dale was the one who appeared the most confident. He had one leg hitched on a stool, leaning forward towards Glenn whom I had guessed had agreed with Dale - him being Glenn and all, the pushover saint.

"So, how do we do this?" he asked. "Just take a vote?"

"Does it have to be unanimous?" Andrea spoke up.

' _No_ ', I thought.

I could tell that everyone else was avoiding the issue at hand, looking for small details to pick at before even considering the big question; _"Was Randall destined to die?"_

He was.

"How about majority rules," Lori added.

"Well, let's just see where everybody stands," Rick looked to all of us, shifting his weight. "Then we can talk through the options." He stood in the middle of everyone, but I caught Dale impatiently waiting to reveal his obvious argument.

There were words hanging in the air and on the tips of everyone's tongue, I was surprised I didn't interrupt the momentary silence. My throat felt too thick to do so.

I swallowed heavily, trying to wash down the taste of metal that had been lingering in my mouth all day.

Shane was the next to speak. "Well, the way I see it, there's only one way to move forward."

"Killing him?" Dale snapped, looking at Shane and then all of us, his eyes lingering on me for only a moment. "Right? I mean why even bother to take a vote, it's clear which way the wind's blowing."

"If people believe we should spare him, I wanna know," Rick's voice was authoritative and gruff.

It was pretty obvious what my opinion was, I didn't need to open my mouth. I tried not to. I was too tired, I felt weaker than this morning and it was starting to bug me.

"Well, I can tell you it's a small group," Dale said in dismay. He looked at all the faces he had spoken to that day, except me. I guess he knew my decision already and that it was rock solid. "Maybe just me and Glenn."

Glenn's expression must have changed at the sound of his name because the way Dale reacted to it showed that Glenn was no longer on his side.

"Look, I-- I think you're pretty much right about everything, all the time, but this..."

"They've got you scared!" Dale rose his voice, and also his hand gesturing towards the rest of the group.

"He's not one of us," Glenn was at the same volume of Dale, copying his movements and also gesturing to the group. "And we've... we've lost too many people already."

I could hear the cogs in Dale's head working, paired with the distant chirps of birds outside. He looked to Maggie across the room.

"What about you? Do you agree with this?"

My legs felt weak as I was standing in the same spot for a long time, I gently let myself lean on Daryl - he didn't react much, only moving his eyes to spot what I was doing for a split second before continuing to watch the debate unfold in front of us.

Maggie was silent for a moment before looking over to Rick. "Couldn't we continue keeping him, prisoner?"  
  


"Just another mouth to feed," Daryl said his first input into the group. His voice vibrated through my hollow chest.

"It may be a lean winter," Hershel added.

There was no way I was going to let them keep Randall as a little pet in the shed all winter, using up supplies we could use ourselves. It didn't matter what outcome this argument was going to have. If they stupidly decided to keep him alive, he was still going to die - because I would make it happen.

I would take it into my own hands, and that was another reason I didn't speak up. No point in trying to argue your point when you had already made the decision for them.

"We could ration better," Lori stated. That statement coming from a skinny pregnant woman.

"He could be an asset," Dale's voice was always loud and it was starting to really annoy me. "Give him a chance to prove himself."

"Put him to work?" Glenn said.

Rick shook his head. "We're not letting walk around." His voice was stern. That was the end of that.

But Maggie tried further. "Put an escort on him," she suggested.

"Who wants to volunteer for _that_ duty," Shane scoffed.

Of course, Dale volunteered. "I will." He straightened his back, tightening his grip on his hat.

"I don't think any of us should be walking around this guy," Rick ordered, holding a hand in the air.

"He's right, I wouldn't feel safe unless he was tied up," Lori muttered, still leaning on the wall with her hand at her mouth.

"We can't exactly put chains around his ankles and sentence him to hard labour," Andrea snapped. It was a ludicrous idea. It just seemed ridiculous for the situation.

Again, I didn't say anything - I knew what was going to happen, no matter what.

My eyes fluttered for a second, I seemed to be leaning heavier on Daryl as the moments went on. My body was tired.

"Look," Shane spoke up from across the room, eyeing Rick. "Let's say we let him join us, right? Maybe-Maybe he's helpful. Maybe he's nice." His thumbs were once again hooked in the belt loops of his trousers, his arms moving as he spoke. "We let our guard down, maybe he runs off, brings back his thirty men."

Daryl moved beside me, shifting on his feet at the sound of " _thirty men_ ". We both knew what Randall said, but my legs wouldn't cooperate to display the anger I felt towards these people I hadn't even met.

I did not want those thirty men to come into contact with our group. The women, Carl, anyone-- Daryl. I would kill them all before I let them touch me or anyone.

And Randall was the possibility of that happening; another reason he needed to go.

"So the answer is to kill him to prevent a crime he may never even attempt?" Dale threw his hands at us all, insinuated his point as far as he could. "If we do this, we're saying there's no hope. Rule of law is dead, there is no civilisation!" His voice spat angrily, and disappointedly.

"Oh, my god," I whispered to myself, finally saying something because Dale's voice rung through me badly and annoyed me to hell and back. I trailed my eyes to the carpet, contemplating whether to knock some words into the old man - so he could finally shut up and stop beating a dead horse.

"Could you drive him further out? Leave him like you planned?" Hershel tried at the situation again.

It was all getting too annoying for my liking.

Lori's voice spoke slowly to her husband. "You barely came back last time. There are walkers, you could break down, you-- you could get lost."

Lori really wasn't a positive person sometimes. I had a flashback to when she said that a highway was a graveyard.

"Could get ambushed," Daryl added.

"They're right," Glenn spoke up. "We should not put our own people at risk."

"If you would go through with it," Patricia's demeanor was small. Her presence reminded me that I had helped kill her partner; just for a moment. "How would you do it?"

Rick's head turned to his friend who shrugged, his arm leaning on the fireplace. "We could hang him, right? Snap his neck."

"Ah, I thought about that. He didn't meet anyone's gaze, obviously uncomfortable talking about such things. "Apparently," he paused, casting a glance over his left shoulder discreetly. "It doesn't work that well. But, shooting may be more humane."

T-Dog shuffled, bringing his arms to rest on his front. He spoke quietly. "What about the body? Do we bury hi--"

"Hold on, Hold on!" Dale waved his arms, interrupting T-Dog. "You're talking about this like it's already decided."

"You've been talkin' all day," Daryl grunted, motioning his hand in a circle. "Going round in circles. You just wanna go around in circles again?"

"This is a young man's life!" Dale snapped. "And it is worth more than a five-minute conversation."

I tilted my neck, cracking it.

"Is this what it's come to?" He shook his head, disbelieving how cruel we could be but Dale had no idea what cruel really was. "You save him. And now look at us." His hands blurred in the air in front of my eyes, shaking in my vision and I didn't understand why. "He's been tortured. He's gonna be executed."

There was a pause as everyone's cheeks reddened with the sudden rise in tension, including mine.

"How are we any better than those people we're so afraid of?"

"Have you even talked to the kid about those people?" I couldn't hold it in. I tilted my head, squinted my eyes at Dale who was now staring wide-eyed at me. "You haven't, have you?"

No one said anything.

"Even without all of us knowing what type of people those men are-- what type of person Randall is, we all know what needs to be done," my skull felt like it was shaking in the skin around it as I hissed the last part of my sentence.

"No," Rick stood straight. "Dale is right. We can't leave any stone unturned here, we have a responsibility."

"So what's the other solution?" Andrea demanded, gesturing to the air in frustration.

Lori snapped at the blonde. "Let Rick finish!"

Andrea kept talking despite the brunette becoming aggravated towards her. "We haven't come up with a single viable option yet."

"Are you deaf, or something?" I crossed my arms, sighing loudly.

More people tried to talk over each other, throwing their arguments blindly. It was all a mess when in my head I still had the same thought - I was going to take care of it, in the end.

"Stop it," Carol had finally said a word on the matter, only for it to put out a growing fire. "I'm sick of everybody arguing and fighting. I didn't ask for this. You can't ask us to decide something like this." I was surprised to see Carol of all people, throw in her towel when the stress became too much. But she did have a point - none of us were previously a high court judge, we were just people.

We learnt how to shoot guns to survive, not because it was our job.

"Please decide, either of you, both of you," she directed her words to Dale and Rick. "But leave me out of it."

"Not speaking out," Dale accused. "Or killing him yourself, there's no difference." I get that Dale wanted people to be on his side, but that was a little low considering the death penalty has always been around; I doubt Dale was rioting against it outside prisons.

I could see in Carol's eyes she didn't take what Dale said lightly, she leaned against the door with a distraught expression.

"All right, that's enough," Rick ordered. He reverted back to his authority figure and spoke to the whole room. "Anybody who wants the floor before we make a final decision has the chance."

I watched everyone. Patricia and Maggie sat down, giving up on saying more words. No one's eyes met anybody else as there was an awkward silence that swept the room.

I just kept thinking, as my hands shook at my sides and my ribs burnt, that I was going to take care of it for them.

Rick looked around as well, the people in front of him and then to his wife, and me and Daryl.

"You once said," Dale pointedly turned to Rick. "We don't kill the living."

"Well, that was before the living tried to kill us," Rick growled, taking half a step towards the man.

"But don't you see? If we do this, the people that we were, the-- the world that we knew is dead," his face held utter despair. "And this new world is-- it's... harsh! It's survival of the fittest. And that's a world I don't want to live in."

"It was always survival of the fittest, Dale," I couldn't stop myself again, bringing my hands up to pinch the bridge of my nose. "Maybe not for you, since you're a _white dude_."

I stood up by myself, bringing myself away from Daryl to my own to feet. "You think this world is so horrible? You believe that this world brings out the bad?" My breathing was heavy and ragged. I was so, so angry. People just didn't understand.

"How dare you say the world was so good," I hissed, my words like poison. A dart meant to strike Dale right in his spirits. "How dare you say the world was so good, Dale."

"People like Randall, and his men, ruin lives," tears sprung to my eyes as my voice rose in volume and pitch, and I found myself being that scared sixteen-year-old girl at the dirty hands of Jimmy Blake again. "Nobody is getting what they don't deserve here."

"You think people like Randall deserve a second chance?" I asked, my ankles growing off-balance. I felt like I was going to fall any minute and begin puking my guts out. "How fucking dare you think that shit hasn't been happening before all this. It's always been there."

I was surprised to not have been interrupted by anyone. But Dale did answer.

"Let's just do what's right," he looked like he was about to burst into tears, his eyes white and shiny. He looked around the room in disgust at how everyone seemed to be against saving Randall's life.

No one said anything. All I could hear was people's uncomfortable shuffling of their feet and not much of anything. I couldn't focus on anything as I stepped back again to lean against Daryl, almost missing his arm.

"He's right," some said... it sounded like Andrea. "We should try to find another way."

I didn't-- didn't care. It was too warm in the house.

I need-- _something._

Rick said something else, but I-- what? I couldn't remember. Or was it, hear?

I didn't know.

"Are you all gonna watch too?" Was the next thing said. But I felt like I couldn't breathe. I felt a cold drop of sweat drip down my neck and down my spine.

I swallowed down that annoying taste of metal again.

"No, you're all gonna hide in your tents and try to forget that we're slaughtering a human being."

"I'll--" I breathed in, my lungs feeling clogged. "I'll watch if you _fucking_ want."

I couldn't see anymore.

And I don't remember what happened after I spoke those words.

 


	50. this is my design

My eyes burned under the dusky sunlight coming from the windows.

My arm hurt, my hand, my knees, my chest, my head - everything felt heavier like the gravity had been dialed upwards. Like I would have to crawl painfully from A to B, my head feeling compressed and about to explode.

That's how I felt.

I licked my dry lips, opening my eyes and moving my head slowly of the pillow placed under it. I moaned softly as my muscles felt like rusty parts of a car, pins and needles rising up my legs and arms. I stretched out my hands only to find something there.

My knuckles had been bandaged tightly, blood seeping through the fabric. I inspected them closer and saw bruises peeking out from them extending up my fingers.

I went to move off the bed, in hopes to see if anyone was outside the door of the room. I was in the bedroom they used to perform surgery on Carl when he had been shot. I remembered it was on the first floor of the Greene's house.

But my right arm was being restrained by a small needle sticking into it, connecting to an I.V.

I groaned deeply, using my shaky arms to sit up. My weakness was sickening and made me incredibly frustrated.

I breathed heavily through parted lips, my hands grazing the walls as I walked along them.Something inside me said that this was heaven and this was the " _light_ " people always talked about.

But I wasn't going to heaven.

There was a thin layer of sweat on my skin, a feverish coldness painting my body even as I felt inside like I was on fire.

I blinked hard, hoping my vision would become less blurry and more focused.

My throat and stomach convulsed, warm liquid erupted from my mouth and I brought my still bandaged hands to my chin. The bile spilled down my past my lips and neck, falling to the floor. I coughed violently, spitting the aftertaste to the space around me.

My stomach contracted multiple times, sucking in and out rapidly.

My stomach upturned itself again, burning my throat and the substance falling onto the floor again.

It was like a clock that just didn't tick, it was doing all the inside work too fast and my body wasn't even doing its job. My body hurt - it hurt and it was coming from the inside, something I couldn't fight or try to prevent; it was like a curse... well, it must have been a disease of some sort and I had no idea.

I crawled the best I could to the edge of the bed, gripping the fabrics and leaning over so I could throw up more. All until there was nothing left. But my throat still tried to rid itself of every single, little bit of burning vomit and tainted saliva.

Hands came to my shoulders, rubbing my back softly in caring circles.

I looked around quickly, lashing out automatically to see Maggie with a concerned expression that made me feel even sicker.

"You're not doing too good," she stated, a small wrinkle appearing between her eyebrows. She kept rubbing my back and looked into my eyes. "My dad says you need bed rest. You were dehydrated and malnourished."

I must have looked like one of the walkers exploring the highway and fields that forest that surrounded the farm.

She brought the back of her hand to my forehead, my initial response was the flinch away but her fingers were a releasing cold temperature on my slick skin.

"Your fever's not as worse as yesterday," she leaned back, adjusting her legs on the bed.

The room was a dark, dusty, and glowing atmosphere.

"You need to be looking after yourself."

She abruptly stood, reaching over to the hanging IV and taking it away to leave with herself. She stepped to the edge of the doorway, turning on her heel and watching me intently and worriedly. She fiddled with the IV in her hands, as she took one last look and made her way out of the room.

Like the room, I felt so bare - stripped of things I didn't know what. Hours were stolen from me, and I needed to know what had happened.

_What had happened to Randall?_

The determination to find out surpassed the ache my whole body held, and I started for the door. Following in the steps of Maggie.

I gripped the doorframe as I peered through the hallways, watching shadows pass and figures scurry from room to room.

Everyone; they were all arranging things and carrying belongings.

There was nothing special I spotted until Glenn passed my glance with a guitar and a purple backpack. My purple backpack.

They were bringing my belongings inside, even more as I peaked around, they were bringing everything in. I had missed a lot and I needed to know what happened to Randall.

Was he dead?

Hershel had not been compliant or welcoming enough to let us live in his house, but now everyone was rolling out blankets and making indoor picnics?

The breath caught in my throat when someone's hands came to my shoulders.

"Uh- Marley? My daddy said-" Beth's soft voice was thrown at me from nowhere but I cut her off.

"Shut up," I ordered steadily. "Just _shut up_."

She looked taken aback and slightly scared as she retracted her hands and looked around like she didn't know what to do.

I took my opportunity before she scurried away and lightly placed the back of my hand on her shoulder, and she stood glued to the spot.

"I'm gonna ask you once, Bethy," I whispered, hoping no one would interrupt from around the corner. "And only you need to answer yes or no."

She nodded.

"Is Randall dead?"

She looked to the ground and quickly muttered a small, "no."

Anger coursed through my body but at the same time, I was kind of glad he wasn't dead whilst I had been passed out.

As I had told Dale, I was going to watch. I was going to get satisfaction at the sight of Randall's head being split open. I was going to like seeing a disgusting human being getting given his justice.

I had figured out recently that to deal with the villains and killers our world was being built on, you had to out-villain them.

You had to be better at bad than them.

I still had my hand gently placed on Beth, just to intimidate her. I looked her straight in the eyes and she looked like she was going to cry.

"Don't cry," I assured, the corner of my mouth lifting upwards. "Just don't tell anyone I've left."

I brushed past her before she could respond, going out the back way of the house. I swung the door hard and quickly leaned up against the wall of the house.

I had to clutch my ribs to catch my breath.

What I was about to do required all the energy I could muster - in my lungs, my skin, my blood, muscles, and my bones. Everything I had inside me was being channeled by anger and adrenaline.

My steps were rushed as I made my way that damn shed. With my fist curling by my side, it came into my view.

I looked over my shoulder quickly, spotting unaware people too busy to realize I was gone.

I smiled.

It got closer, and closer - it was growing bigger, and taller, like it wanted to challenge me. A wall to climb or something to beat down.

It was like I was playing a game.

Like I was the hound and Randall was the Fox.

I stopped when I came to the door, taking deep shaky breaths and then I looked to the lock. To my surprise, it was open with the lock hanging loosely off the handle.

Ripping open the door there was Shane, leaning forward on a stool until I disturbed his peace and he looked to me.

His eyes turned wide and mine turned dark.

I spoke no words and only silently wanted the man to leave; Shane knew what I wanted to do.

He stood and I went to push him out of the way and make my way to Randall; the one thing I have been wanting to hurt that past week.

But Shane grabbed my shoulder with one hand and used his other to cover my mouth, roughly backing me up outside the small building.

He was too strong, too big for me and an obstacle in my plan.

I struggled with him as much as he could, taking the hand he had over my mouth between my teeth and biting.

I tasted blood and it dripped from my lips, the salty liquid coating the back of my throat.

He hissed and took his hand back, quickly shushing me and lowering himself to my level; where our green and brown eyes met.

I spat, the blood spraying from my mouth. I ran my tongue along my lips, tasting it and swallowing heavily.

"You can't just kill him here," Shane started, his voice gravelly and torn. I went to protest before he spoke again. "But... I have an idea."

With red-stained teeth, I grinned uncurling my fists and leaning back on the shed in ease.

 

+

 

"Shh! Go that way," Shane barked orders at the prisoner, pushing him along the forest. Randall stumbled through the leaves and uneven ground.

Whereas I took steady steps, stalking carefully behind them. My head turned down and watching him from afar.

I observed from around the trees, making eye contact with Shane only when he looked back at me.

They suddenly stopped, Shane taking the rag from Randall's mouth and shushing him desperately. He kept Randall facing away from me, so the boy couldn't make a real run for it.

It was no secret that Randall was scared of me the most.

The plan Shane had explained set me up to have no part in Randall's disappearance - that's what the others would believe.

Like we both had done with Otis, we were going to tell a story. Design what we wanted people to think, and pull the strings on what people knew.

This was going to be my design.

Randall was going to seemingly escape from his shed, slipping from the cuffs, then surpassing us both to run into the woods.

The group could do what they wanted with that story, but they weren't going to touch us.

I put my hand on a nearby tree, fingering the box-cutter Shane had given me. It pressed against my leg as I toyed with the handle, digging the sharp side into my thigh for a moment.

I peered around the tree, watching the man and boy start walking again.

Randall talked and talked about absolutely nothing useful. He explained his group.

"Gets a little crazy sometimes, but it's a tough bunch of guys," Randall walked awkwardly on his still injured leg, hobbling left and right, looking back to Shane. "You'll fit in good."

"Less talking, more walking," Shane grumbled, pushing him along and turning around to look at me again whilst still following Randall.

He nodded at me, and I followed then faster.

As I got closer, Randall got louder.

"Look, I run my mouth when I get nervous," he shuddered.

I didn't want to hear his voice anymore, and I haunting feeling in my stomach that was incredibly hard to describe soared up my body. It was like a suit or a mask, basking me in sinful liquid - like my body was trying to catch up with my mind and what it wanted.

I ran a hand through my hair as I took a deep breath.

But with my hand came a lock of hair; it was probably more than a lock, but I was in denial.

I stopped following them to look down to my hand and assess what I was doing.

My body was dying; like it was cracking in multiple places.

It was telling me I probably wasn't built for this.

The follicles circled my fingers in red and rose gold. I licked my lips as I let the hair fall to the ground, the light wisps collecting at my feet and sending a sick feeling to my stomach.

The ghost of the person I once was hung over me, following my every move.

I walked faster now, making up for lost time.

"It ain't all about you," I heard Shane say. He seemed distant and preoccupied, not at all focused on the task at hand.

I silently jogged over to another tree trunk, on the left of them both.

Hidden from them, I passed them without a glance and only heard them walking closer to me.

Their steps were ringing in my ears like an alarm, everything I felt was heightened.

Adrenaline was pumping through my veins like wildfire and my breaths quickened as I anticipated the first look on Randall's face.

Gripping the handle of the knife tightly, feeling my knuckles lose blood and my hand ache - I waited.

"I ain't saying it's about me. Just trying to-" He cut off his own words, suspending them in his thoughts as we came face to face.

His eyes widened, he looked absolutely terrified and I took a moment to look at his horrified expression.

I was one step before him, as he took one of his last breaths I jumped into action.

With one quick swipe towards his windpipe, a thin line etched into his throat and started to pour thick, red liquid.

The pain didn't register in him, and his eyes widened and his mouth quivered. He looked me in the eyes with a mixture of disbelief and horror.

His bound hands reached up to his throat as he coughed, more blood showing, this time from his mouth. His fingers touched his neck, mixing wth his own blood.

His body leaned forward towards me, and I was too in the moment to try and stop him from starting towards me.

There was something about slitting someone's throat open that washed over me and I didn't understand it.

I started to almost hyperventilate when Randall's taller body made contact with mine and our bodies fell to the ground with his on top of mine.

His blood was warm as it washed my front and started to stain my neck, reaching my face all the whilst I watched in awe and curiosity.

The way his eyes were so desperate to keep the life in them and the way they stared at me; the way any eyes would when you had just cut them deep.

The way his hands clutched his throat so tight it looked like he was trying to kill himself, but he wasn't; he was trying to stay alive.

I grasped his wrists, roughly tackling him sideways to where he was underneath me. My knees dug into his ribs and I held his arms beside him and I watched intently.

He still struggled as his mouth gurgled with even more blood.

There was so much blood.

He struggled, and he bled and he was dying. It hadn't hit me yet.

I squeezed his wrists tightly like a vice and I spat in his face the blood that had leaked into my mouth. My eyes were crazed and my body shook on top of him, as I watched the blood pour from his neck and mouth - the life slowly and surely leaving him.

And it left.

I felt no pulse between my fingers, and yet I still sat there like I was waiting for him to die.

But he had died.

I clenched my teeth so hard I thought my jaw was going to break; because I was still waiting for him to die, when he had already died.

It didn't have the effect I wanted.

I suddenly let go, bringing my red hands towards me as I kept my eyes on Randall's stunned expression that was painted on him, with layers of more red and more blood.

My chest was tight as I looked from my hands to Randall, and back.

I covered my mouth with my hand, silencing my panic attack that threatened to rise.

I moved off Randall, kneeling on the leaves and inspecting myself.

It didn't feel the way I wanted it to feel, I wanted it to be good - I wanted to feel good about getting rid of Randall and his disgusting self.

Randall was something I hated, I kept thinking of what he put those girls through and how Randall was a nuisance to the whole group.

I felt like I was doing a service but I still killed somebody.

I just killed someone.

So I blocked it out, I sucked in a breath looking up to the sky - breathing in the scent of metal and earth mixing together on the ground.

Then I breathed out...

"What now?" I asked out, still sensing Shane standing over this scene. I looked over my shoulder, my hair falling over my face and getting stuck to the blood that was still there. "What's our story?" _What's our design?_

Shane didn't speak for a moment and  knew he was just assessing the situation and me, it must have been an image to see me like this. To see me kneeling beside a dead body with its life on my hands.

"I'll go back and tell 'em he escaped," his voice was hard and still drifting off to another thought. Shane wasn't focused and he wasn't here.

I stood shakingly, my palms facing upwards in front of me. The liquid pooled in my hands and I stepped over Randall's static body.

I walked towards Shane, watching his eyes follow me.

"How did he escape?" I tried.

He looked to Randall and then back to me. "Clocked me in the face."

There was a pause but I didn't see myself swinging my fist straight into Shane's nose. His head jerked back and my knuckles bruised at how hard I hit him.

It needed to look like he got clipped.

"There," I stated, shaking my hand around.

Shane didn't protest as he pinched the bridge of his nose and sniffed.

_There was so much blood._

"Yeah," he lifted an eyebrow, shifting on his feet.

"What do I do?" I asked and he gave me an answer straight away, ignoring his probably broken nose and grasping my shoulders.

"Take a different route," he whispered darkly. "I'll take care of it." He sounded so sincere it almost broke me. It almost struck a cord within me.

"Thank you," I sounded indifferent and emotionless, giving lukewarm reactions to everything around me.

Everything was off until further notice.

There was a moment he searched me like he dug amongst my brain in search for my humanity and he found nothing.

"I don't like it," I stated evenly. "It wasn't what I thought."

"I need to understand it."

Shane stepped back, wiping his chin with the back of his hand. Sweat glistened on his skin from the setting sun. It was getting dark and we needed to get back.

"Thank you," I repeated.

There was more comfort I needed to give, more anything to better explain my gratitude for what he had done for me.

But I couldn't give anything without letting something in and I was too scared too, so saying thank you was all I could give.

" _Thank you_."

Shane had done so much for me and had never seen me as evil and I was so grateful.

I kicked some leaves towards Randall, trying my best to cover his body, but lazily. He was in the same position with a pool of blood spread everywhere on him and around him.

Then I took steps back, and so did Shane to another direction.

We nodded to each other before turning and making our journeys back to the farm.

And then the stress hit me, my head pounded hard and my body ran cold the further I walked.

It wasn't long before the sky got even darker.

I tried to spit out as much blood as I could but I still tasted it.

A stabbing pain struck my chest and I fell to my knees, I gripped the bark if a tree beside me, pressing the heel of my hand into my forehead.

More hair tangled into my hand.

I leaned my back onto the tree, closing my eyes tightly as my breathing turned hoarse like I was choking on glass.

All the strenuous activity caught up with me and I felt like I was dying.

I leaned further down, keeping my eyes closed and letting the darkness consume me.

I was surely going to hell because _this_ was my design.


	51. hurt

  
I was set in an unblinking trance, somewhere between consciousness and unconsciousness. I felt like I had been leaning up against the tree for days, nights passing me by without so much as a breath escaping me.

The night had grown dark, with the stars emerging and fear ensuing. I was left with nothing but uncertainty to drive me to do anything next.

If my mind wasn't worried about what the night held, I think I would have stayed there forever.

If I still wasn't so scared... still, then I would have stayed there. But I still was. I was still so scared, and I don't think anyone could understand how you could be so frightened of not only what was around you, but yourself, and still kill someone.

I killed someone.

I just killed someone.

It was like I was waiting for it to cripple me. For the guilt and horror to hurt me so bad, I didn't want to live anymore. When it hurt so much you just wanted to never be yourself again.

But it hadn't hit me yet like I had turned something off because my mind was scarcely retreating from the blood that stained every inch of me.

It dried up my hair, tangled it, turned it a dull red - along with pinching my skin with a copper paint, one that sunk inside you like an infection.

I slowly moved my fingers in my lap, looking down with what little light the day had left to see the blood dried around my nails. It crusted and chipped slowly, lines, where my fingers bent, showed my skin colour.

It felt like a glass shell was encasing me, stopping me from moving comfortably.

I wiggled my toes in my boots, tilted my neck, bending my elbows, slowly getting my body to work again.

I groaned heavily as I got myself to stand again, with great difficulty.

It was like a rebirth of some sorts, my new body taking time to cooperate.

I looked around my space, only just making out the lines of the ground scattered with dried leaves and broken twigs.

I couldn't see much as I travelled in and around the trees, swerving left and right when my headache deemed so.

It was too hot despite my breath turning to mist in the dark air. My skin prickled and goosebumps rose, but my insides were like boiling fire. I was burning up from the inside. The pressure pulsating in my skull was deafening.

But I still had to get back.

Shane had told me to take and different route so we wouldn't be seen together. I didn't usually like taking orders from anyone but it seemed logical

But it was now nighttime. Shane had surely masqueraded the group around the woods, leading them around Randall's body and making it look like he ran away - when in reality, Shane was protecting me.

So I didn't take a longer or obscure route, I went straight to the farm with my hands held slightly upward, my eyes blinking rapidly as I tried not to trip on anything I couldn't see.

I tried my best to follow the feeling of going back, watching in front of me for the shore of the forest. It dipped up and down, throwing me off balance.

I breathed heavily, not praying because... I could never will myself to pray for anything.

I didn't realise it at first, but I had made it to the edge.

I looked on to the house, past the shed and the few scattered trees and cars.

After all this time, it still looked untouched. Preserved in its own little bubble of serenity. Slowly deflating, ready to burst and take us all aback.

Without thinking anything of it, and the state I was in, I started to briskly walk towards the house. My steps were rushed and clumsy, like something was behind me. The adenine still coursing through my veins and being the only thing that kept me going.

I tried my best not to feel _anythin_ g. Anything at all.

It would hurt too much.

The steps were hard under my feet, my ankles straining to climb up onto the porch. I gripped the railing, hauling my body to the top.

It all seemed so normal and quiet. I could reach for that door and step in, like everything was fine - but it was always, far from fine.

It always had to be far from fine.

The idea of _fine_ was so foreign to me, if I ever felt it, then something must be wrong.

I don't think I can ever be fine, and it's been that way for years.

The handle was rusty and golden, and reaching out to it I spotted my red hand. The skin slick, still, with Randall's blood.

I felt around my face and neck, feeling the slowly drying liquid. It was tightening my pores, making it hard to make even the smallest of movements. It made my clothes stick to my skin, I felt like an extra layer of fat.

I started from the bottom of my stomach and reached all the way up to my eyes, even coating my forehead and staining my hair. I could see it now, in the faint reflection of the window-paned door.

I was about to make a step into the house, but a hollow bone cracking sound jolted my body. It was loud and ambiguous. I turned on my heel to the small silver horizon, training my ears to try and figure out where the gunshot had come from.

It sent shock waves through my chest, turning my blood cold for a split second before I reverted back to being a human furnace.

Something just went wrong. Something was wrong.

I swallowed heavily, squinting my eyes to the landscape with the gunshot still echoing. It made me feel sick- or even sicker.

Hastily, I grabbed the door handle and gently opened up into the house, placing my feet carefully as to not make a sound.

I could hear the small talk coming from the living room, the clattering of items and pacing feet. My eyes stayed wide as I crept past the door, hiding away from people's eyes by the staircase. I placed my hand on the wall, leaning forward and trying to stay upright.

Sweat dripped down my nose, and I slid down to the floor in a heap of ache. Curling into myself, my whole body shivered. Leaning my forehead against the wall, knocking it gently.

With tired and heavy eyes, I simply looked to the red that had now stained the wall. It looked like a child had smeared paint there because it was so pigmented - and almost didn't feel real at all.

"What was that?" Someone said, their voice quiet. "Did someone open the door?"

T-Dog was the next to speak, his voice louder like he was calling out to me. "Is it them?"

"There's no one there."

"Probably the wind," Maggie added.

"What about her?" Beth's small voice sounded.

Lori was the one to answer. "Her?"

"Marley."

"She's just..." there was a pause as everyone's breath settled. "Gone."

There was another pause.

"I'm going after them," Andrea announced, and I heard her rise from her seat. But then Lori stopped her.

"Don't," she breathed. "They could be anywhere, and if Randall comes back we're gonna need you here."

I almost jumped up from my spot on the floor when the door swung open wildly, and my eyes darted to the two figures that entered the house and made a swift turn to the living room, not even giving a passing glance towards me.

I hugged my knees, propping my chin on top of them.

It was weird; I wasn't letting myself feel anything.

"Rick and Shane ain't back?" It was Daryl.

They must have sent him to track Randall in the forest. Shane said he would tell a story, so the group had to be shepherded around for some time before they concluded that Randall was just gone.

And apparently me too.

But what I was worried about was how good Daryl is at tracking. He was too good for me to hide from him.

"No," Lori answered him.

"B- We heard a shot," he continued. I had heard it too, and I didn't know what it was.

I just wanted to go in there and see Daryl again but I couldn't.

Not like this.

"Maybe they found Randall," Lori suggested quickly.

" _We_ found him."

_Oh no._

Maggie spoke up next. "Is he back in the shed."

"He's a walker."

There was a moment as I ran through the events in my head, and it didn't make sense. Walkers don't go hunt for dead people, they hunt for us - like running bait, for it to be breathing and willing to fight back.

I had left Randall more than dead, so he couldn't be a walker.

"Did you find the walker that bit him?" Hershel asked.

"Now," it was Glenn this time, who seemed to be the person who had accompanied Daryl out there. "The weird thing is, he wasn't bit."

"His neck was... cut."

"He got bit," Hershel tried to reason.

"It was done with a knife - straight line. It weren't no bite."

"You sure?"

He must have nodded because there was no reply.

As they talked some more, with all my strength, I slid back up the wall to stand. My knees shook despite what little I weighed.

"The thing is, Shane and Randall's tracks we're righ' on top of each other," he continued, and I listened closer to what he had to say. He never normally talked this much to the group. "And Shane ain't no tracker, so he didn't come up behind him."

"No they were together," it seemed he hadn't added me to the equation. He didn't see three tracks, he saw two; all considering that I didn't directly follow them both.

"Would you please get back out there and find Rick and Shane, and find out what on earth is going on?" Lori pleaded.

"You got it," he replied quickly, and then he returned back to the hallway and I saw him. Glenn and Andrea brushed past him because he had spotted me discreetly walking forwards.

"Marley?" he sounded so disbelieving that I was actually there like I had died and he was seeing my ghost.

I rushed forward and shushed him, coming so close that our chests brushed against each other. But I took a cautious half-step back.

And it was too late.

"Oh my god," Lori was the first to speak.

I pushed Daryl sideways so I was behind him, his body becoming a shield against the eyes of everyone who was now following Lori into the hallway.

I gripped Daryl's jacket, and he stood in place with a glance over his shoulder.

I peeked from behind him, eyes wide. I kept a tight grip on his upper arms, making it so that as I backed up slowly, he had no choice but to follow.

"Wha- are you hurt?" Lori continued, obviously spotting the state I was in.

"Where have you been?" Maggie asked.

There were more questions but I still only heard the first.

"It's not-" the words stuck in my throat. I choked on them, manic eyes and shaking grip. "It's not mine."

Silence struck them all, and their eyes softened at the sound of my voice.

"What's not?" Hershel said the important question.

"It's..." I breathed out heavily, wiping away as many of my emotions as I could. Creating a clean slate within me. It made me feel distant. Cold.

"It's not _my_ blood."

"Guys!"

Glenn's voice interrupted it all, calling from outside.

The moment we heard his panicked call, every one of us turned towards it and started to filter out of the house.

I kept a hold of Daryl.

I didn't know why Glenn had called us all outside in such a desperate tone, but I soon figured out when I stepped away from my friend and took a closer look at the horizon.

The number was... daunting, to say the least - because it was way too many to count. This wasn't like the highway, this was more than that herd.

Hundreds upon thousands of walkers covered the field just in front of the farm. From this distance, it made me feel like a clock had struck its time. It's time to end.

It was time for the end.

"Patricia," Hershel spoke first. "Kill the lights."

A certain indifference to this was inside of me, but I still started to think about how to survive this.

No matter how much I've wanted to die all my life.

"I'll get the guns," Andrea said just as quiet.

I rubbed my hands together, trying to rid the slick feeling on them.

"Maybe they'll just pass like the herd on the highway. Should we just go inside?" Glenn asked.

I was too focused on the colony of dead slowly making its way towards us.

But I knew that hiding under a few cars wasn't going to help us now.

"Not unless there's a secret tunnel downstairs I don't know about," Daryl snapped. With his voice, I stopped looking at the colony and towards everyone else. "Herd that size'll rip the house down."

The blood coating me wasn't the main concern anymore, and I felt slightly more invisible.

Carol beside me had her hand covering her mouth in shock, and the display of clear emotion confused my mind for a second.

I should be panicking.

But I didn't feel a thing.

"Carl's gone," suddenly Lori came outside again.

"What?" Daryl questioned.

This was Carl. I was supposed to be panicking and care.

But I just... didn't.

"H-He was upstairs. I can't find him anymore."

"Maybe he's hiding," my voice sounded so monotone and dull, I questioned whether I had lost my soul for a moment.

She panted. "He's supposed to be upstairs. I'm not leaving without my boy," her words were quick and worried to no end.

"We're not," Carol assured. She took her friends arm, and I watched her usher the mother back into the house, speaking of looking some more.

Andrea knocked into my back as she rushed onto the porch. In her arms was the oversized bag of guns. She unzipped it to show off the sizable weapons within it.

Everyone started handing out weapons, not making eye contact with me for a second.

They were not going to give me a gun but I watched on as they shakingly prepared to fight against the colony.

"I got the number..." Daryl was at the edge of the porch, to my right. "It's no use."

"You can go if you want," Hershel told him.

"You're gonna take 'em all on?" Daryl sounded unconvinced.

"We have guns, we have cars," Hershel then readied his gun with a large click.

Andrea continued. "Kill as many as we can, then we use the cars to lead the rest of them off the farm." The way she said it was so nonchalant, like battling against a walker infested farm was an everyday escapade.

"You'll die," I warned.

Nobody replied.

"All righ'. It's a good a night as any," Daryl shrugged. He made his way past the people in our group towards me, where I was away from all of them just at the start of the stairs.

"Here," he said quietly. He opened up my hand and I looked down to see him put a box cutter in my palm. "You dropped this."

He knew.

I furrowed my brows and made eye contact with him and only him, the expression he gave spoke a confirmation that he knew.

He knew that it was me, and not Shane who had killed Randall. And he lied to everyone.

"Keep safe, Marls," he whispered in finality. Nodding at me, he slid over the wood railing to jump down and towards his bike.

My fingers closed over the small instrument.

There was talk of getting the cars driven around, and who would go where.

"Me and T will take the blue truck."

"Jimmy you take the RV, block the opening in the fence by the barn."

"Come on, _Jimmy,_ " I decided where I would go. "The RV's waiting."

I stepped heavily down the stairs, swinging my arms as I started to walk towards the RV.

"Marley, wait!"

"Marley!"

Despite the walkers coming closer, they didn't spare any volume as they kept screeching after me.

But I didn't care.

I heard Jimmy hurry after me, he was silent as I lead us towards to RV.

We hurried inside, Jimmy taking the wheel and myself in the passenger, to open the window and spy on the walkers coming closer.

Anything to try and distract myself from letting anything in. Any emotion that would surely leave me crippled.

Keep myself busy, and it won't hurt.

Daryl's motorbike came up in front of us, the bright lights coming to life on the RV and illuminating him.

Jimmy followed behind him, driving as fast as the old vehicle could. The engine groaned under the strain.

I saw Daryl shoot some walkers as we parked in the space between two fences, blocking off any more of them approaching the farm any further.

The fire caught my eye, and it was fire inside the barn. A blaze started to spread. It began to rise in the structure, burning any walker that came near. Smoke was flying high above everything, and it made the air smell of ash.

T-Dog and Andrea, Glenn and Maggie, started to collectively shoot at the walkers.

They weren't making a dent.

Jimmy leaned out his window and used his own gun to help, but it didn't make much of a difference.

I simply watched flame engulfed undead flail around, not in pain, because they couldn't feel it. Each one becoming a beacon of fire that walked.

"Must have been Rick n' Shane that started that fire, maybe they'll try to get out back," Daryl's voice came from Jimmy's open window, as the boy leaned further out to listen closer. "Circle round."

"Got it," Jimmy yelled back, and I was pushed back when he put his foot on the gas and started to approach the alight farm.

"What the hell are you doing?" I asked suddenly, looking at the bewildered and red-faced boy beside me.

"We're saving Rick and Shane," he answered.

"You'll die," I warned. "I'll die too."

"What?"

"That farm is on fire, take the hint, we'll burn to death."

He ignored my comments and kept driving towards it, quickly pulling up on the left of the burning structure.

"You'll die."

I gripped the arms of the seat as the road was bumpy, and made the RV sway wildly.

Walkers surrounded us, and I could hear Rick yelling at us along with the constant groans of walkers.

I could feel the heat creeping up my neck.

And it wasn't the heat that came with sickness.

Clatters came from the roof as Rick and Shane must have stepped on it.

But I was more concerned with the hands that started to grab at the windscreen.

I couldn't help but let it all in; the panic. I couldn't move. When I let an ounce of emotion in, all the rest came with it.

I felt like I couldn't breathe, I couldn't move, I couldn't do anything.

At the corner of my eye, Jimmy got up from the drivers seat.

_Was I going to die?_

All I kept seeing was Randall, and on top of that, Otis, then Sophia, the walkers at our wake.

Jimmy went for the door, but it burst open. Walkers grabbed at his flesh and started to tear. They ripped him bloody, as he started to scream.

And I screamed back, turning quickly in my seat and for a moment watching in horror as the young boy struggled, gurgled in pain.

They bit his legs first and made their way to his neck.

I screamed more and stepped over my seat.

I kicked the walker closest to me, grabbing desperately at the edge of the door whilst they were too busy eating Jimmy.

The blood pooled at my feet, along with flesh and screams.

I forcefully pulled on the handle, slamming it against the skull of one of them. It split like rotten fruit, bursting against the wall as I repeatedly slammed until it shut fully.

It was quieter then, the roaring of fire silenced and the groans of the undead muffling.

I turned and the female walker I had kicked made her way to my neck, but I pushed the box cutter Daryl had returned to me into its eye.

Dropping the thing, I stabbed the last walker casually chewing on Jimmy's stomach on the Base of its skull.

Jimmy writhed in his own fluids, sobbing heavily and weakly moving around in pain.

I didn't look at me.

The box cutter slipped from my fingers, onto the stained thin carpeted floor. I breathed heavily, as I took a moment to just look at Jimmy.

And in a moment, a split second decision, I leaned over to him to grasp the sides of his head and jerk it further than his neck would turn.

He wasn't sobbing anymore.

The sickness inside of me remembered and I threw up beside him. I wiped my lips with the back of my hand, coughing the sour taste from my throat.

"You'll die."

I couldn't think straight because my panic and manic thoughts were blurring my vision of surviving.

So I pushed them aside once again, leaning down and picking up the instrument again.

The fire from the barn started to heat up the glass, and I heard it crack.

The flames licked the clear surface, and within seconds of seeing the heat start to approach further, I covered my head with my arms and ducked down as the windows shattered loudly above me.

When the shards settled, I rushed towards the middle of the RV and reached to the square opening in the roof, unlatching the door and swinging it open. I used the counter to step up.

On top of the RV, along with the furnace inside of me, the one behind me burned my skin and felt like it grabbed tightly at my skin. Biting at me like those walkers had done to Jimmy.

Looking down, it was my only hope.

When an opening came I took it, leaping down towards the ground.

I heard my ankle snap, and I hissed in pain. More heat was on my body from the ache that spread up my leg. It was like tiny ants constantly stung me, thousands of bugs.

I bit my tongue, screaming in my mouth before forcing myself to get up.

A walker approached me, and I swung my weapon lazily, slicing its chin from its face.

as fast as I could go, with the injured ankle I had just been inflicted, the forest was my only choice.

The unknowingness was my only choice.

"You'll die." I kept repeating the same thing, not knowing who I was talking to.

It was most likely me.


	52. abandon all hope

  
The woods was like a maze. Every turning and corner looked the same. I was going on an endless treck through the same paths. The only difference in the image was how high the sun was, and how much I could see.

I grabbed at every tree I could, resting my weight on each one to try and dull the pain.

I know the treatment for injuries. I had been inflicted them for so long, it was second nature. Bruises and cuts were a colour I had seen more than I should have.

I knew that I needed to rest, but I just couldn't. The need to get back was too much, the pain was just background noise.

But it was only so long you can bear it.

My bottom lip shook as hot tears streamed down my cheeks, my eyes burned and watered for the longest time.

My cheeks even started to hurt as I kept trying to silence myself.

I could hear birds, the soft treading of my feet on the ground, and the small whimpers that escaped me for hours on end.

I begged my body to stop but it never let up.

"I can- I can't," I whispered to myself, looking around at the dull green moss that littered the scenery.

I could feel my ankle swelling in my boot, it heating up and aching with every single step.

" _C'mon_ ," every piece of hope I held inside me pushed my legs forward.

It was a good thing I had some idea of where I was going.

There was no one with me.

It was just me now.

And the place I knew had supplies, was the highway. We had left some for Sophia, and we had all been so busy that we never went back after we found her. So they must have still been there.

Now, I wasn't an expert tracker, or really an expert in anything, but I had a little bit of faith in myself that I could find the highway.

The sky had turned from dark to light, from black to grey. From daunting to hopeful.

But hope was horrible, it never usually amounted to anything for me.

I couldn't take it anymore; bottling it all in. The darkness was too much, it was leaking from my skin. The only thing I could do was feel it all at once. Feel everything, all that I had done had to come back eventually. The only thing I had to stop that from happening was the pain travelling up my leg.

I took a moment, falling to the ground right next to a small river. I took my shaking, cold fingers and ripped at the base of my shirt. My small hands could only do so much, and the bones of my hands ached under the pressure.

After gathering a long piece of fabric that once covered my stomach, I took my boot carefully in my hand. Slipping it off was an arduous activity, but I soon got it off to see the makings of purple creeping up my ankle.

Carefully, and painfully, I wrapped all I had around the joint. Going as tight as I could whilst still giving it enough room to breathe. The skin was warm and tight, and I knew I would have to get it cold soon.

All I could do was walk more, getting up from the ground to pass the river after I put my boot back on.

I tread through the water, and it was freezing. I wrapped my arms around myself, gripping tightly to try and conserve any heat I had left. My teeth chattered wildly, making me hurt even more.

It took some effort to climb up various small, but steep hills. For each, my leg would drag behind me, whilst the rest of my body used every ounce of strength to haul myself forward.

It almost seemed unreal, seeing the highway. A slither of something I could never taste. I thought I would get lost, have to fend for myself for the rest of my life. And yet, there it was.

The highway was behind a few more trees, and I could see the metal railing that fenced it off. I could see the cars, rusted and old.

It didn't feel real that I had done something right.

My heart beats faster as I travelled towards the highway with greater speed, and great pain. I sobbed heavily as my ankle could not take it. I hobbled, limped, and struggled my way forward.

And when I did make it, I hear voices. I heard names.

"We're the only ones that made it so far," the distinctive volume to his voice set me on edge.

I shivered, naturally taking a step backward.

Wrapping my arms around my stomach, pinching my sides, I slowly limped closer to the sound.

Even if it was coming from _him,_ my body still reached out for the company.

"Shane?" It was Lori.

A solemn silence followed. I had no idea what they were talking about.

"Andrea?" And there was Glenn.

By that time, I made it to the very steep path to the railing. I gripped the soil and climbed, my jaw taut as I struggled. The dirt got under my nails, and the pain _everywhere_ worsened.

"She saved me then I lost her."

_Carol._

"We saw her go down."

_T-Dog._

"Patricia?" Hershel followed next.

All these people were alive.

And all those people were dead.

At the top of the hill, I crawled under the railing and onto the concrete road. Stones stuck into my palm before I gripped the back of a nearby car to stand.

"They got her too. Took her right from me I was-... I was holding onto her daddy, she jus-"

The small sobs of a seventeen-year-old followed, and it reminded me too much of myself.

Seventeen was a fragile age, and I was already cracked at my edges by then.

"What about Jimmy? Did you see Jimmy?"

I had seen Jimmy.

"He was in the RV. It got overrun."

Glenn spoke again, an urgency and despair in his voice. "Marley was in there. Wha-?"

"What?" I didn't know that one word from him could make my stomach warm until then. Warm in a good way. "You sure?" A hint of worry laced Daryl's voice.

I had been standing and listening for too long then, so I used little dents in the car to maneuver around it.

And there they were.

It wasn't all of them, but...

My hand squeaked on the glass, making a loud high noise.

The group didn't hesitate into action, as they turned frighteningly towards me. Rick loaded and pointed his gun right towards me. And then they all hesitated. Like they didn't know if I was real enough, or alive enough.

I raised my hands, in a surrendering motion.

"Jimmy didn't make it," I voiced, and I could see everyone relax.

Walkers didn't talk.

"But- b-... but I got out," my throat was hoarse and dry. I seemed smaller than I had ever been. Like in any moment I would just disappear.

A silence followed, as weapons were lowered and everyone looked at me. I didn't look back, just simply cast my eyes to the ground. I was like an omega wolf; the bitch of the pack. The weaker one.

The one in last place.

Glenn tore himself away from everyone, and I could see his legs walk towards me. I could feel his arms gently come around me. He enveloped my shoulders, placing my head on his front.

I didn't know what to do, but just stiffly stood in his embrace.

He rubbed his hands up my back comfortingly.

I didn't understand.

The emotions threatened to spill, but it was like a nuclear reactor. It was too large a risk of letting the bad things out, so I didn't let anything out.

He held me out in front of him, a small, sad smile across his lips. Relief on his features and gratefulness.

It would be Glenn who was thankful I was back.

Glenn had a constant forgiving nature, even for the most horrible of people. It was a weakness and a strength in him... more a weakness. Because he forgave people like me.

No one wanted to talk to me. They didn't even look straight at me. There was an awkward pause before someone spoke up in worry. "You definitely saw Andrea?" Carol asked.

Lori had her back turned to me. "There were walkers everywhere?"

I remember the amount. I was surprised I got out without getting bitten or at least scratched. All the injuries were my fault. The sprained ankle, the bruised and cut knuckles.

"Did you see her?" Carol continued.

The last I had seen of Andrea was her handing out guns and saying we should take them all on.

"I'm gonna go back," Daryl started to get on his bike and I watched his hands as they steadily gripped the handlebars.

But Rick spoke up, his tone dark and authoritative. "No."

For once, I agreed. I didn't feel the need to go back to try and find Andrea. Despite it being possible that I could have really needed for them to go back to the farm to find me.

But I found my way.

My uninjured leg was starting to ache, as I balanced on one foot. I wobbled slightly.

"Can't jus' leave her," Daryl tried to reason, looking at Rick with a raised eyebrow. He stopped getting onto his bike and looked to our leader.

"We don't even know if she's there," Lori added. It seemed the grimes couple wanted to move on.

Glenn, who was still standing beside me closely, looked at me expectantly. "Did you see her?"

For a moment, I just stared at the ground with a raised eyebrow and slightly parted mouth. I was taking slow breaths as I lazily blinked.

I gave a small shake of my head, licking my lips.

"She isn't there. She isn't," Rick spat. "She's somewhere else, or she's dead." The word 'dead' had a bitter undertone. The man seemed on edge and ready to bite anyone who questioned it. "There's no way to find her."

"So we're not even gonna look for her?" Glenn was aghast to the indifference Rick had. How Rick could abandon someone in our group by not even trying.

"We gotta keep moving," was his excuse. "There have been walkers crawling all over here."

T-Dog, who was still leaning on the blue truck door, spoke up. "I say head east."

"Stay off the main roads," Daryl's voice was next, and it caused me to look up from the ground towards him. He grasped his crossbow from his bike. "The bigger the roads the more walkers. More assholes like this one."

My eyes widened as he walked towards me with his weapon raised and ready.

But Glenn steadily held you shoulders to move me from his way, and he walked past.

"I got him."

I looked over my shoulder just as the arrow flew into a walker's eye.

I swallowed.

I was freezing. My stomach peeked from my shirt where I had ripped it. My sleeves were thin and had been soaked with blood for hours so that they clung to my skin. My trousers were wet from treading water.

Everyone around me started to get into cars. Going in groups so they could even out.

Glenn stood helplessly with his hands still on my shoulders, and it seemed he didn't know what to do with me. It was obvious he wanted to be with Maggie.

From my left, someone gently grasped my upper arms from Glenn.

"I got her," Daryl's gruff voice echoed in my ear and made me jump in my skin.

Glenn nodded to him over my head and approached the Greene family.

It seemed they were getting in one car, and the grimes family were getting in the other. T-Dog was hastily gathering the leftover gas from the blue truck he was driving.

"Can ye' walk?" Daryl asked me as I was looking around at everything with tired eyes.

I didn't answer, the little amount of effort a yes or no could take was still too much for me.

Daryl responded by taking my arm and looping it over his shoulders. Holding me by my hand tightly, and scaredly around my waste.

Since he was much taller than me, I gained a few feet in height and balanced awkwardly. He let me put all my weight on him.

We walked forward slowly towards his bike, awkwardly trying our best to make our predicament work despite the height difference.

He set me down on the bike, and I wrapped my arms around myself again.

I watched him carefully. I analysed the blood that splattered the side of his face and jacket. His hair was dirty and disheveled.

He kept his eyes away from me, and I figured because my pale skin was still covered, head to toe, in dark blood.

He reached towards the back of his bike, where he had his saddle bags.  
He placed the large leather jacket in my lap, not saying a single word and standing back before me.

I slowly pulled my arms through the jacket, pulling up the sleeves so my hands could peek out.

"Thanks, Daryl," my voice cracked.

He rubbed his cheek, sighing heavily as he looked around at everyone. The people were starting to get into cars and ready to go.

I moved one of my legs over to the other side so he could straddle his bike.

And when everyone had left the pavement, I leaned forward and pressed my cheek to his back, closing my eyes and carefully wrapping my arms around his waste. He tensed at the contact for a moment but relaxed as he started the engine.

Even though my emotions were pretty void of me in that moment, I had this overwhelming sense of peace. Like if I died there, right then, it would be okay. Because I had my hands grasping Daryl's blue shirt, with my thighs snuggly pressed up against his.

Daryl's presence came with a peace I couldn't get with anyone else, and it made me want to cling to him now.

I hadn't realised it before.

Before I needed it.

+

The only thing that kept me awake was the sheer noise that was coming from Daryl's motorbike. I had created a warm silhouette against him, his leather jacket drowning me with heat.

But then the noise died down, and I opened my eyes as we slowed to a stop in front of all the cars.

I looked over my shoulder, to the windshield where Rick's dark eyes stared back for a split second. I blinked rapidly and looked away.

Daryl turned off his engine as everyone else did, and quickly swung off the bike. I stayed on.

Everyone exited and gathered at the front of the line, carrying guns with tense shoulders.

"You out?" Daryl was the first to speak.

"I'm running on fumes," Rick's steps were hard and rushed. He was tense and everyone could tell.

Maggie approached the middle, a large shotgun in her arms. "We can't stay here."

"We can't all fit in one car," Glenn reasoned, he was behind me.

Rick looked around our scenery, and I noticed the blood that stained the front of his jacket and hands. "We'll make a run for some gas in the morning."

Carol tugged her cardigan tighter to her small body. "Spend the night here?"

"I'm freezing," Carl shuddered, as his mother rubbed her hand on his chest to warm him up.

I let my hands fall into Daryl's jacket, curling my fists and swinging my leg to sit sideways on his bike. I stared at the fabric make-do bandage that peeked out from my boot.

It still hurt.

"We'll build a fire," she assured him. Her husband untangled his own jacket from himself, giving it to his son to keep warm.

"Anybody goes out lookin' for firewood, stay close," Daryl advised. He analysed his crossbow. "Only got so many arrows, how you doing on ammo?"

Rick kept pacing. "Not enough."

"We can't just sit here with our asses hanging out," Maggie stated.

Her father reprimanded her. "Watch your mouth. Everyone stop panicking, listen to Rick."

I didn't want to listen to Rick. I didn't want to look at him. I didn't want to be around him.

I almost died because Jimmy drove the RV to save him.

Rick held a black pistol in his hand, and he kept waving it up and down as he spoke. "Alright, we'll set up a perimeter. In the morning, we find gas and some supplies. We'll keep pushing on."

"Glenn and I can go make a run now and try to scrounge up some gas," Maggie tried again. It seemed she wasn't afraid of admitting that she was afraid. That she didn't want to stay in one spot because that could just leave us as sitting ducks.

Rick raised a hand to her, stopping Maggie before she could speak anymore. "No, we stay together. God forbid something happens; people get stranded without a car."

He was putting more bite into his words than he let on.

Glenn sighed heavily. "Rick, we're stranded now."

"I know it looks bad," he spat. The ex-cop letting anger lace his words, layering the wrong type of authority on every syllable. "We've all been through hell and worse, but at least we found each other."

He took a moment to suck in a breath and lower his eyes to the ground.

"I wasn't sure- I really wasn't, but we did. We're together."

I didn't know if together was the best - with clashing personalities and my propensity towards violence.

"We keep it that way."

I could hear the stream nearby flowing heavily.

"We'll find shelter somewhere, there's gotta be a place!" Again, he sounded angry. Tense. Ready to burst a vessel at the slightest comeback.

Everyone seemed to stand and listen, and I would have said something about sitting on top of danger but I really wasn't in the mood to be yelled at.

Glenn was the one to do it. "Rick, look around. Okay, there's walkers everywhere- okay, they're migrating or someth-."

"There's gotta be a place; not just where we hole up, but we... fortify. Hunker down. Pull ourselves together. Build a life for each other?" Rick hissed. "I know it's out there, we just have to find it!"

Maggie sounded dull and tired. "Even if we do find a place, we think is safe, we can never be sure for how long," I noticed her southern accent had strengthened, probably from the stress. "Look what happened with the farm. We fooled ourselves into thinking that was safe."

Her father assured her. "We won't make that mistake again."

I didn't say a word on anything. Still pretty dazed, tired, and in pain.

Again, another awkward pause as people sensed Rick's hostility. The leaves ruffled beneath his feet as he constantly stepped back and forth. He looked between us and where the noise of the river was coming from. "We'll make camp tonight over there." He pointed to a small, seemingly old, stone structure. "Get on the road at the break of day."

More people started to spread out, I turned slightly in my seat to get a better look around.

Carol spoke directly to Daryl, a frown on her forehead. "Does this seem right to you?"

I looked to him, and he quickly diverted his gaze from her own. He didn't answer, and he looked uncomfortable.

Beth stepped forward. "But what if walkers come through, or another group like Randall's."

Randall.

And then they all came back together again, and I simply laid my hands in my lap as they created a bubble of chatter I was outside of.

"You know I found Randall," Daryl started.

I perked up, the breath catching in my throat.

"He'd turned, but he wasn't bit."

I furrowed my brows in confusion. They must have been mistaken. A walker must have gotten to him and they never looked hard enough for a bite.

You can't turn from just dying.

Beth voiced my worries. "How's that possible?"

Lori looked desperately to her husband for some answers. "Rick, what the hell happened?"

"Shane killed Randall." My head shot up at the sound of his voice, and the words that he said. He didn't look at me for any second, instead around the group.

I coughed in my throat, biting the end of my tongue and watching Daryl intently.

I seemed to be doing a lot of that.

"Just like he always wanted to."

I knew he wasn't talking about Shane.

Lori had a confused look on her face. "And then the herd got him?"

And then there was a moment, filled with the sounds around us. The chirping of birds and breeze billowing, along the river, flowing. The volume around me amplified like my mind was telling me to listen. Pay attention - appreciate it.

Or to look for something; I wasn't too sure.

Rick squinted in the sunlight, his eyes falling from everyone. "We're all infected."

For a moment I had no idea what he meant. Infected with what?

Were we all sick?

Daryl voiced my confusion. "What?"

"At the CDC, Jenner told me," Rick started. "Whatever it is, we all carry it."

What I gathered from that, was that I would always be a monster. I was just like them now. The sickness wasn't just mental, it was physical. The disease of this world coursed through all our veins. And it was a great way to wake everyone up, to human nature.

+

Something about the cold was so inviting like it was telling me to drown myself in the icy liquid that flowed through my hands.

I was sitting on the bank of the river, my fingers dipping into the water and staying there. They started to get numb.

"Marls."

I turned quickly, bringing my hands out of the water. Droplets landed on my cheeks, my nose, and eyelashes.

He was there, as always. His dark silhouette haunting my own. He leaned on one leg, and I saw he had something in his hand.

I only got a better look when he lowered himself to sit beside me. He had a roll of bandage, the ones that came packed in plastic - probably from a first aid kit.

He handed me the item, before digging into his pocket and handing me a handkerchief to go with it.

I was still wearing his jacket from earlier.

"You've got-" he paused, and I looked at the things in my hand to his face. "A hell of a lot of blood... on you."

"I know, I was there," I replied, lifting an eyebrow.

There was a pause in the air as I felt his eyes burn into me as I dipped the handkerchief into the icy water beside me. Dragging it roughly across my face and through my hair, the old material scratched my skin.

"Why did you lie?" I asked. "Why do you always lie, Daryl?" My tone had an underlining of friction, I didn't mean to be there.

"What?"

"You know Shane didn't kill Randall."

He didn't answer for a moment before I dropped the cloth onto my lap and looked at him expectantly.

He had his arms resting on his knees, eyes on my own and a shadow casting his face. I could read that he didn't want to answer me.

"People don't need to know," he answered, his voice small and shy. "Ain't none of their business."

I felt a bubbling feeling rise up inside of me. A concoction of emotions bursting at my seams. But I stared vacantly at his blue eyes, mouth straight, eyes dead.

"What happened?" He enquired. I noticed the tension in his voice. Like he was apprehensive to ask me anything.

"I woke up, found out Randall was dead and changed that," I didn't feel anything.

Anything at all.

"I was in the RV, and broke Jimmy's neck when walkers attacked him."

Nothing at all. There was nothing to feel because nothing was there. At least, that's what I thought.

"Y'alright?" His question was strange. So foreign.

I didn't know if I was alright. But I knew "yes" was nowhere near the right answer.

I slowly shook my head, sucking in my cheeks. I looked down to my hands, rubbing the handkerchief on my fingers and nails.

My eyebrows screwed together.

"I still remember the first thing you said to me." _We ain't murderers_. "And I remember that it does not make sense for me to say it."

Then I released every tension in my body, laying back with my hands on my stomach.

"Lay back with me, Daryl," I whispered, closing my eyes send breathing out slowly.

He was staring at me confusedly, I could tell. And I didn't know whether he had laid beside me or not but I kept talking.

"I don't know what to feel. Or how to feel. It's like it's all gone because I'm not allowed it all anymore."

"I killed Randall and felt pleasure for a second, before feeling nothing."

"I feel _nothing_. It's all inside but I just..." I reached my arm up, curling my fingers in the air up to the darkening sky. "Can't reach it."

I opened my eyes, bringing my hand to my head and wiping my forehead with the back of my hand.

"I'm straight up losing my mind."


	53. theatrics

Marley had been sick many times. Some would say, too many times for there to be no concern.

When she turned fifteen, she started getting sick. It wasn't anything morbid. None of them were death sentences, her body was just very bad at protecting itself.

Marley's blood was thin. Her bones were fragile. Her joints were loose. Her immune system was fucked.

She had a tendency to get sick.

And for years, _no one_ cared.

After Marley's parents died, Jimmy Blake had no concern for paying money to care for her everlasting sickness.

So she had learned to not expect anyone to care.

Not anymore.

It had been a week - _she thought_ \- since Rick Grimes declared his leadership detail, and how he had killed his best friend. Because he _pushe_ d him, she remembers him saying. Around the fire, when they were all scared and she still had bruised knuckles from punching the long dead man, their new leader hissed and spat his anger.

All she could think about was the almost teary face Shane had made just before they departed, and how she had thought nothing of it at the time. She was too busy struggling to see through red, and she hadn't cared.

Then all had been quiet.

The growing tension coming from rick alone caused most of the group to suffer in silence and have a " _get on with it_ " attitude. All she could think about was the almost teary face Shane had made just before they departed, and how she had thought nothing of it at the time. She was too busy struggling to see through red, and she hadn't cared.

And Rick had a tension with Marley.

If she didn't have an injured ankle, he wouldn't have let her help anyways. Let her help with clearing out houses, guarding them, staying on watch. He acted like she didn't exist.

The girl stared lazily out the window. Her under eyes were dark and purplish, mimicking the bruises that littered her entire body.

She found the only thing she could have any effort to do was blink.

Her forehead tickled as she lay it against the car window, the engine vibrating all the way up to her, where she tried my best to sleep and my best to not puke.

Nothing helped; not liquids or sleep; heat on her stomach or anything she had thought of herself.

She never gave anyone a chance to put their pity on her. No one ever did, so it was a foreign concept.

"Marley?" The voice was muffled in her ears. Lori tried speaking to me for an hour, but she still kept my eyes on the road.

Marley was in the Grimes' car. Despite the father being less than happy that she was near his wife and son, it was the only way he could keep a close eye on her.

He knew she was some sort of unstable.

"Marley?" Lori leant towards her over her seat. "Sweetie, answer me."

Lori's motherly instinct must have kicked in at the mere sight of Marley. The need to constantly know how she was doing, and whether she needed any help - despite her previous actions. How she had insulted her and hurt Rick.

The redhead's manic attitude had taken a leave since the farm. Her less-civilised behaviours. She was simply... _still_.

"Marley?" Carl had tried this time, and Rick's neck craned at the sound of his son's voice.

He took his eyes off the road for a split second, a steely glance to the younger people in the back.

"Carl," he warned. The boy in question sat back in his seat moodily.

"Rick," Lori started. "We need to stop, she looks like she's about to fall apart."

"She's fine."

"She's going to get worse if we don't find her a place to rest and get better."

Rick didn't answer, his hands clenching over the rubber of the steering wheel. The action a warning to his wife.

Lori rose her hand to Marley's knee, patting it gently to try and get her attention.

She shook within her skin, lifting her head from the window and looking wide-eyed to the woman catching her attention.

She breathed heavily like she had just woken up from a nightmare.

"Are you okay?"

"I think I'm gonna-" she stopped short when a wretch crawled up from my throat and she pressed my head back onto the window.

"Rick stop she's gonna-"

"I heard!"

Rick pressed the horn twice, and the band of cars and a motorbike slowed to a stop. All of them looking curiously to the one that signalled to see what the problem was. They stopped on a small road, an alleyway between trees.

Marley played with the handle of the door, curling her fingers and pulling. The door opened and her weak body went with it, tumbling to the ground, shoulders first. Her legs upwards, her waist bending awkwardly.

The first one out of the cars was Maggie, who ran towards the girl and started to lift her from the dirt. Marley's back was now coated with a dark gritty substance.

"Oh god," Marley heard her whispering in her ear, the action washing a cool breath of air along her skin which she appreciated to some extent.

Maggie couldn't do much but lay her on the slightly wet ground, holding her face in her hands and moving the hair from her face. By then, all had gathered - albeit T-Dog who kept watch.

"She alright?" The first to ask was Daryl. The man stood amongst everyone, and slightly behind. He kept his eyes on the how you could easily see Marley's veins due to how pale she was. He had always noticed the faint blue line that travelled up the inside of her arm, and how it branched at her wrist and inside of her elbow.

"She's been like this for days now," Lori sighed.

Hershel knelt down next to his daughter, to the girl on the ground and patted her face gently. Marley's eyes fluttered at the contact.

"Sit her up," he simply said.

Maggie and Hershel leant the weak twenty-year-old against the car, and the old man squeezed her cheeks in his hand. He shook her head slightly, trying to get some words out of her.

"Marley," he tried quietly.

"Hershel," she threw back. Her voice was a mess of cracks.

"I need to know if you have any idea what's going on with you."

She took a weak hoarse breathe, the noise making everyone shift uncomfortably. "Paroxetine," she started, each syllable a pound of energy leaving her torturously slow. "I was taking paroxetine."

Hershel turned from her, looking over his shoulder at everyone. "Withdrawal. Did anyone know she was on paroxetine?"

Glenn stepped forward. "I remember her asking for them." A pang of regret coursed trough his thoughts. He remembered how casual the exchange of drugs was, how he never asked what they were for.

"Yeah," Lori confirmed. "She asked to have it when they went on a run. Why?" Lori remembered writing the damn word, " _paroxetine_ " down. How _she_ never asked what they were for.

It seemed both Glenn and Lori noticed how much they should have been paying attention to her. But neither knew how much she had on her mind because Marley had lied about who she was.

Hershel sighed heavily, turning to the redhead once more. "Looks like this ain't over for you yet." He stood up, wiping his hands on his shirt and turning to look at everyone. "She's having withdrawal - it's like a fever, but with anxiety, nightmares, insomnia. I don't doubt she knows what she's gotten herself into. But I think she's just sick on top of that; a common stomach bug, maybe."

"She needs a stable environment and medicine, as soon as possible."

The group was silent for a moment, as all eyes drifted to their leader who stood as still as ever - seemingly a mile away from his wife, and with a stony expression. Rick clenched his jaw.

But Daryl was anxious because Marley was sick. He hadn't ever met her sick. He had never seen her this way and it made him scared. Because he wasn't a genius in the medical field so he felt like there was nothing he could do. Whilst the rest of them had distanced themselves from the girl, he hadn't one inch.

Maggie had her hand resting against Marley's cheek. It was hot to the touch, burning red.

Carol piped up, wincing at the sight of the girl. "Is there a place nearby?"

"There's a place - a theatre," Glenn suggested. He had been studying the maps every minute, constantly anxious about where they were.

"It's too big," Rick ordered, pointing his finger to the floor. "Too open."

"She needs a place," Hershel reasoned.

"We'll go to the theatre and find a pharmacy from there," Maggie planned, wiping the sweat from Marley's forehead. She lightly tapped her cheek when the redhead started closing her eyes. "Stay awake, sweetie."

"No," Rick still stood his ground. "We go straight to the pharmacy."

"Rick," Glenn sighed exasperatedly. "That's too far for her, she won't make it."

"She'll have to."

"Rick," it was Daryl's turn to try and reason with their leader. His tone was harsh and protective. "She _can't_." Daryl shifted under everyone's gaze. He threw a nod to Maggie. "Her plan sounds good."

Unlike Glenn and Lori, Daryl knew all she had on her mind, and he didn't stop anything that happened.

He felt like one of the most important responsibilities he had come across in his life, was turned to dust; and he felt so _stupid_.

Everyone nodded in agreement. But Rick had his hands on his hips. His ring finger tapping the metal of his gun.

He looked to the girl on the floor, looking away from Maggie's angry stare.

And then Marley looked at him. The girl who stood by his _best friend's_ side. Who punched him in the jaw, almost broke his nose, and generally caused him trouble. He didn't exactly feel up to giving her special treatment.

Rick didn't like her.

"Glenn," Rick started. "Gimme the maps a sec'." He waved his fingers to the other, an impatient glance passing over.

Glenn hurried to the car he was occupying and came back with them, passing them over just for to leader to turn and walk to the front of the cars.

The group watched their leading man as he rolled out the map on a car, and started to look intently at it. The only person who followed him was his wife, Lori. A recoiled expression appearing on her face.

"Daryl," the weak voice caught everyone's attention.

Her eyes widened at the sight of him, an almost _cute_ expression on her face.

He looked to her.

"Help me back in the car," her sentence ended with a cough. She let her head fall on her own shoulder, hair falling over her face.

Daryl looked to the ground briefly, adjusting himself. He took hasty steps towards her, letting Maggie move past him before quickly taking Marley by under her arms and lifting her with ease into the car. Maggie moved her legs. Marley lay her head back, not moving her eyes from Daryl.

"Fine," Rick announced exasperatedly. He stalked to the middle of the group, looking intently at Marley who stared right back. He would have to accept that she was with them - a traitor. An accomplice.

Someone he honestly just wanted to leave behind - because it reminded him of the fall; the fall which his _best_ _friend_ had taken.

Rick had to deal with other people caring about her when those feelings had been buried for him.

"We'll go to the theatre," he spun on his heels. "Daryl, Glenn, you come with me to the pharmacy further into town."

Everyone nodded in agreement, filtering from the 'meeting' and back into their cars.

Daryl waited for Maggie to leave his side, and for eyes to turn the other way.

Then he looked at her intently, inspecting the darkness under her eyes and the thin layer of sweat on her skin. Her damp hair stuck to her neck, and he almost resisted the urge to brush it away. But he did, using his pointer finger to stroke her skin and the strands of hair over her shoulder. Her skin was scorching hot and wet. Daryl could also feel the thumping vein fighting for life, right below her jaw.

He felt her shiver under his touch, and her eyes fluttered open and closed. She breathed out steadily for a moment, before going back to her regular croaky noises.

He shut the door, walking back to his bike.

 

+

 

The theatre was huge. Some of the group had wished in their heads they had heeded Rick's warning of its size.

They can't protect themselves in a place like where they were. There were too many exits, too much space, too much danger.

Any intruder could easily walk in and line up a sniper, taking them all in a line

But Marley had started to shake. Her temperature was rising but inside she was freezing. She kept asking for them to close the window, and no matter how many times they said they did, she kept asking.

And she had to wait because they needed to clear it out.

The few people who regularly did it left the cars and left everyone impatiently standing around, feet tapping on the gravel as they kept their eyes away from the redhead.

Carol sat beside the girl in the car, keeping her middle and pointer finger pressed to Marley's wrist. Her senses picking up the raised marks there, and discreetly ignoring them.

Marley's heart was racing faster than before, and her chest rose and fell at an unsteady pace.

They took especially long, this time, bolting doors and blocking exits to try and minimalise the amount of watch they would have to take.

And when the part of the group who cleared out houses came back, Glenn dived straight for the door at which Marley sat. He placed a gentle hand on her arm.

"Come on, Marley," he tried to lure her out.

When she grimaced in her place, whimpering like a kicked dog, he hoisted her into his arms. Her head fell in the air, chin tilting upwards. Her mouth parted and inhaled the cold air around her, making Marley's lungs ignite in a shiver.

All of them rushing into the theatre, Lori and Carol staying close to Glenn near the front. He kept his body level as he could, trying not to swing her about too much.

Rick ushered everyone in, directing them to centre stage. Dusty red suede chairs covering from corner to corner of the room. Dusty gold metal lining the Isle. Ugly flowered carpets layering the floor. Creaky dark wood taking up the stage.

Glenn waited for Maggie to place a thin blanket at the foot of the front row, before laying Marley gently on the floor. Her head hit the floor roughly and he quickly gave a small apology.

Marley's eyebrows furrowed, her big green eyes looking around for something.

"Right," Rick's voice was loud and everyone could tell he was slightly pissed off. "Daryl, Glenn, you're coming with me. T-Dog is in charge till I get back. Carol, you're with Marley. Hershel, make a list for me."

Hershel started to wildly scribble on a small stray paper he had found at the front desk of the theatre, after finding a dying pen. He looked back and forth between the girl on the floor and the list of drugs.

And Daryl's feet couldn't keep still. He gripped the handle of his crossbow with such might, he may just make it crumble.

He was at the front of the theatre, where Marley was still in his view. And he squirmed under her sickly state and the way she stared at him - like she didn't want him to leave.

He was so used to her being dependent on him, back when she was too scared to go anywhere by herself, but he was dreading her reverting back to her weaker self. She had grown so much without him, and he didn't want her to be scared again.

His face held utter disappointment in himself because he should have looked after her. He should have seen it all coming, and he didn't do anything about it.

Carol rose up from her kneeling position on the floor, running her cold knuckles along Marley's cheek.

She turned to Daryl. "She's asking for you." An expectant and curious tone.

"Alright let's move," Rick yelled. He wove his hand in the air, starting to power walk back to the cars.

Daryl looked between him and Carol, letting as much hair he had fall over his eyes. Daryl stayed guarded against everything around him. "Gotta go."

The archer swiftly brushed past the woman who was only trying to help. He heard Marley speak small " _no's_ " as he passed by each chair - the swirl of guilt rising in his stomach.

Marley had tried her luck, so she let her eyes flutter closed, taking hoarse breaths and curling into herself.

All whilst everyone else looked at her in a pity she _never_ wanted.

 


	54. the power of three

You do ridiculous things when you're drunk. You do amazing things. Terrible things.

 _Horrendous_ things.

And he was merely a boy of sixteen, blinking the snow from his eyelashes. The poisonous liquid on his tongue being the cause of his erratic legs. He swerved from left to right, exiting his house. The swank white-bricked house, that had a frozen over pool sitting in the back.

It was so cold...

The boy travelled down his driveway, spotting the luxurious and sleek black car, and it was all too tempting for him. It was like a dark siren, singing him towards trouble. To the depths of more booze and treacherous travels.

His slender body slid into the seat of the car, and it started to roll even before he got both his legs into the car. He quickly shut it, drool dripping onto his faded jeans. He wiped at it blindly, fumbling with the keys to start the engine.

Soon enough, he was travelling down a white road, the snow beating at the windows. The darkness behind every snowflake was blurred in his eyes, by alcohol and tears.

He didn't want to care. He didn't want to be so _soft_.

This is what made him regret finding the liquor cabinet key, in the little Celtic cup his father kept in the glass cupboard. The cup where his dad used to stash joints and DS game cards when he lost them.

It was all to make him learn a lesson; don't lose it.

The speed at which he was driving was all too real. Travelling past farms and fields, unable to see the yellow flowers that gathered at each post of each fence. He was hitting speeds no one should in that type of neighbourhood. It was a place where everything was kept inside, and everything was nobody's business.

He was too drunk to notice the oncoming car, the one which held two dentists driving towards a place that held a gift. It only seemed like a dark cloud passing over him, rather than something that could potentially kill him in one swift blow.

His car collided with theirs, and the boy held his breath as the once sleek car tumbled and turned, flipping over. Glass shattered, sending shards past his cheeks and arms. Metal bent, everything went entirely wrong in almost too short a time.

The noise was like thunder cracking, splitting the air with light getting destroyed.

He couldn't see it all happening clearly, the coldness seeping into the car, the alcohol still blurring his vision, the tears being sucked up because sometimes when you're really scared there's no time to cry.

There's only time to be scared.

When the boy of sixteen awoke with a pain in his neck, and glass in his arms, he coughed and spluttered. He moved his arms to crawl from the wreckage. The ice on the concrete being the only sense of relief for his gashes.

His could breath raised into the air, chugging like a train running on empty. Desperate. Scared. Confused.

All he could think about was how much his dad would be disappointed with him. How much his dad would hate him for smashing up his car. How much his dad would shout. How his dad would want to kill him.

And then he saw it; the other car.

The boy clutched his arms with numb fingers as he approached it, taking careful steps. His muscles trembled in the cold wind.

Violet Van Allen was still in the passenger seat, but a large splintered piece of wood had struck itself through the window and right through her chest.

Neil Van Allen had exited through the window, his body colliding with the ground in a heap of broken bones and bruises. There was a moment as Neil shuddered in the wet dirty snow, his body turning purple.

"No. No. No. No. _No._ " The boy whispered he brought his hands before him, waving them about in a panic.

He sounded like a child.

He kept muttering those words, running from the scene. Running from the guilt that plagued his every footstep.

Neil could see the wet of the snow and the way it lay on each blade of grass. How he could feel the sinking mud beneath him.

He thought of his children.

 

+

 

Harvey's eyes fluttering open, wincing as dust fell into his view. It made him cough, his throat dry.

He stood up, walking over the two sleeping bodies beside him. He looked down to them both, yawning into his hand and starting to walk towards the gate that held them safe. It stretched across the counter, protecting the from intruders.

He felt like a prisoner.

Any stranger would salivate at the medicinal stash they held behind that gate. The coup they had built for themselves, even if it was only three of them, was strong.

Harvey approached a small bucket in the corner, unzipping his pants and starting to do his business. He whistled quietly, thinking of anything but having to do his business in front of his two friends.

He patted down his pockets, looking for a cigarette when an empty box hot the back of his head.

"Jeez," he jumped, looking over his shoulder. "What, fuck's sake?" Harvey scrunched up his nose in annoyance.

"Don't just piss in the corner, Harvey!" The woman yelled.

Laura sighed tiredly, trying to find something else to throw at Harvey. She patted around her sleeping bag. When she did, she was reminded of the constant crick in her back as she sat up further. Having to sleep on the floor wherever they went

"Fine, I won't do it again," he yelled. In return, she gave him an angered look, a warning glance. "But I can't just stop right now."

"Fine," she muttered, climbing from her bruised knees to stand up. She lightly kicked the other sleeping form.

"Willy Wonka, time to wake up," Laura yawned. She kicked him harder for good measure, earning herself the floor when will yank her leg sideways.

"Fuck you!" She screeched.

Harvey quickly zipped up his pants, rushing over to the two "adults" and tearing them apart.

Will, the one who laura had kicked, smacked away Harvey's hand. "Get the fuck away, faggot!"

"Alright," Harvey sighed, stopping his efforts at keeping them from beating each other to death. "Laura, you can kick his ass."

Laura pummeled his ribs, shouting to the heavens about how she's tried to teach him not to use those disgusting words.

Will had the propensity to use words that never needed to be. Ones that cut deep, attacking things no one could change about themselves.

"Alright, alright, jeez."

Laura rolled off him, retrieving a pair of dark torn jeans from her bag and kindly giving the taller man her middle finger. She shuffled them onto her legs awkwardly, stretching her limbs as she did so.

Will peeked a look at her behind.

"You two act like children, I swear to god," Harvey had now retrieved a cigarette, hanging it from his plump dry lips, puffing light dusty smoke into their small space.

"Great," Will was the last to stand, leaning against the metal barring. "We've been here like _three_ days, and prancy Bambi over here has turned it into his personal ashtray."

Harvey, taking after their friend laura, slowly blew out a long drag of smoke, and followed it with his own middle finger.

"Jesus fucking christ."

Laura clapped her hands, then placed them on her hips. She faced the gates. "One thing this pharmacy is good at."

It was a few hours then, of sitting around doing a little under nothing.

There was nothing they could do.

The safety of their fort set an easy fog over them. Where they couldn't do much but breathe. And they'd rather be bored and breathe than have something to do whilst taking their last breath. The numbing attitude they had would put most people out of their minds, but who wasn't out of their minds these days?

Will exited the pharmacy, going through the front door and inspecting the street.

It was vast and empty, no sign of life or death - it was eerily quiet. And Will never really liked the quiet. He had a yearning for loud music and thrashing voices. The apocalypse was his personal hell in the form of lowered volume.

He turned to go back inside, but the warm metal that pressed to the back of his head made his feet stop.

"Stay still," a voice said.

"I kinda got that."

"Don't get smart," another, more impatient and broken voice, spoke. And it paired up with the first face he saw, through the eyesight of a crossbow, the mystery man stared down at him.

More up at him, since will was towering to anyone.

He turned on his heels, bringing his palms to face forward. In a surrendering motion, he looked to the men who had his life in their laps.

Daryl opened the front door, surveying his surrounding as quickly as he could, glancing over his shoulder as Rick still held the gun to the strangers head.

"Drop the crossbow, asshole."

Daryl had obviously not surveyed enough because a gun was now pointed at his own head.

Two others behind the counter, guarded by a large metal rusted fence.

Daryl was too distracted by the twisting in his gut, the feeling of constant paranoia. The paranoia that something was happening to Marley and he wasn't there.

He needed to be there, as much as he hated showing any vulnerability to anyone, he may just crack a seam if he didn't get back to her in time.

He may just...

Rick, Glenn, and the Will joined him in the pharmacy. Their rushing footsteps echoing on the tiled floor.

"Will Day, nice to meet you," Will introduced himself, seeming all too calm despite having a gun pressed firmly to his skull.

Will was almost six feet tall, a slicked stylishness to him, a dirty amount of stubble, and large unnerving eyes.

The two behind the counter were his friends.

Laura was slender and slim, her dark hair falling in messy curls. She had tanned skin, and rich, warm, chocolate eyes. They held a welcoming gesture in them, yet seemed to still show off the feel of ice.

Harvey was the shortest and had a square face. He seemed to be all hair as his growing beard and mop was a wild brown that stuck out in all places.

Glenn brushed past Daryl, ignoring the stranger's guns and trying for the gate. It was locked and rattled as he shook it for a moment.

"Open it up." Glenn sounded extremely desperate. He may as well just got on his knees.

Harvey was the next to speak. "Don't really want to." The cockiness sent a shiver down Daryl's spine. Coming across a personality like wills struck a memory in him.

The slicked hair, the following eyes, the tendency to get on every nerve he possessed.

"I'll shoot your friend," Rick warned. He pushed Will forward, showing off the very close aim he had on.

"And for what?" Laura seemed genuinely intrigued, as she adjusted the shotgun in her hands. She also didn't seem that bothered at the guns pointed to both her and her friends.

"I think you know what for."

The woman sighed. "Medicine. What type of medicine?" Laura sounded like she heard the plea for medicine every single day. But in reality, these three men was the most exclusive human interaction her little group had since the world turned to unorganised dust.

"Any type, I guessed," Will was way too smart-ass for the predicament he found himself in.

"Just open up the gate," Rick's voice was dark and warning.

Daryl's was just impatient. "Don't need more trouble." He waved the crossbow to the gate expectantly.

Laura laughed dryly, and discreetly flickered her eyes to the shelf underneath the counter, where a stack of keys sat.

"We can't just give you them," the woman stated.

They had expected there to be a catch.

"What do you want?" Glenn said in a rushed tone. He was adamant to get the medicine and get back on the road again. He was anxious to what was happening to Marley.

Out of Daryl and Glenn, the latter showed the most worry. The former's being trapped in a cage he had mastered his whole life - yet, if you looked hard enough, you could see inside it.

But Rick didn't care. "We could just shoot you and break open the gates ourselves."

"Then you wouldn't know where we hid the medicine." Will waved his fingers as he still had his hands raised. "And it would be a waste of bullets when we could just resolve this in a humanly manner."

"Humanly manner kind of flew out the window," Harvey added in. "As soon as guns were involved."

"Shut up, Harvey," Will went to toss another insult about Harvey's sexuality, but had a small flashback of Laura punching his ribs into the ground.

He had to learn to be better.

"You got a group?" Laura asked, tilting her chin upwards for a second. "A place? Something?"

Rick adjusted his grip on his gun. "No." He didn't want to add some strangers to his list of worries, especially when his distant pregnant wife was the top of that list.

"Liar," Will sang... like it was a game.

"Shut up, please," Laura stressed. "Just let me do the talking boys."

"We're not lying," Daryl clenched his teeth, getting more impatient by the minute, and the trio of people who didn't even seem to get along with each other was definitely not helping.

"How's your wife?" Laura prodded, lifting an eyebrow.

Rick glanced quickly to the platinum ring around his finger.

"She around?"

Rick sighed heavily, sucking on his cheeks.

"See, you look more annoyed that I spotted your ring than sad that she's gone," Laura smiled to herself. "So I'd go with the former.

"What do you want," Rick finally asked.

"Whatever you have," Laura looked some kind of excited and slightly giddy at the thought of getting out of that damned pharmacy. "To share."

" _Share_?"

"Yeah... be a part of your group."

"No."

There was a silence that followed. A thick one that sliced at their minds to resolve this situation sooner through words so that they wouldn't risk their physical selves.

"Please," Harvey sounded like a wimp.

"Why do you want to join our group, anyway?" Glenn asked, the aim of his gun faltering slightly.

Harvey looked to both will and laura, stooping his shoulders exasperatedly. "Look at us," he waved his arms around. "Apart from medicine, we don't actually have anything."

"We're not even sick."

Rick didn't look convinced. He really didn't want new people in their group, when their small colony was already miles apart.

Glenn took pity on them, already agreeing in his head to take them in, throwing caution to the wind because his friend was probably going to die if they didn't compromise.

He turned on his feet, looking to Rick in a pleading manner. "Marley needs this, can we just get on with it and go."

"You have a _Marley_ in your group?" Will cocked a brow, feigning disinterest. Yet, he had all the interest in the world.

Glenn regretted saying her name.

"Yeah," Daryl said defensively. "So?"

"We know a Marley," Harvey said, relaxing slightly as their conversation became less confrontational. "More specifically, Laura does."

"Anyone could know a Marley," Daryl was radiating a protectiveness he'd never shown for anyone else.

" _Marley Van Allen_?" Laura seemed to soften at her own words, a sad smile painted on her lips.

Rick and Daryl looked to each other, a silent duel of questioning whether Marley brought with her a caliber of good or bad people.

They both knew how strange Marley's name was, to begin with, a name they both never heard in their life until they met the damaged girl.

You never came across many Marlene Van Allens.

Glenn stuttered, he was about to ask them how they knew her, but Daryl beat him to it.

"What's her middle name?"

Laura sighed angrily, not in the mood to be questioned whether she knew Marley Van Allen or not. She felt like she knew the most but Daryl Dixon was in the room. "Martin."

"Boyfriend's name?"

She scoffed at the thought of the man. "Jimmy _fucking_ Blake."

Daryl squinted his eyes, happy at the little nickname she had given the thankfully long dead asshole.

He still always thought about the black eye the man had given both Marley and Daryl.

Then he thought of another question. "Where are her parents?"

This time, Harvey answered instead. "They're dead. Car crash on her birthday."

Glenn's breath faltered. He knew Marley's parents were dead, but he never knew how abrupt and awful it must have been.

He started thinking about how much he didn't know about the redhead.

Daryl raised his eyebrows and Harvey rolled his eyes. "December 25th, asshole. Any more questions on the tragedy of Marley Van Allen?"

The hunter clenched his teeth, so much so he thought he would crack a molar.

"Even if you do know Marley," rick spat her name. "How can we trust you?"

"Marley would trust us," Laura swallowed before speaking, a terrible coil tightening in her stomach.

Rick smiled bitterly. "Doesn't make me trust you." Because Marley had trusted Shane. He didn't bother to hide how much friction he and Marley held between them.

"You're gonna have to," the woman picked up the keys from the counter, dangling them in the air and making them clatter, teasing them. "Because we have the keys, and we have the medicine."

"And you have a sick girl on your hands."

Daryl took in short breaths, angering at the thought of someone from Marley's past coming to hurt her. It planted a seed of worry in his head, letting it sprout further into his thoughts and curling around every step he took.

If they touched her...

"Done," he spoke for everyone, not looking Rick in the eyes as he swung his crossbow over his shoulder, and let Laura place the keys in his hands.

Laura could see how much he cared for Marley, even before assessing the way they were around each other.

She had been that way before.


	55. imagination

I hurt all over. I couldn't find any other word to describe it - it hurt so much.

It's all I could think about.

I tried to focus on other things, like how Carol's fingertips felt against my wrist. The way Lori's hair fell. At which angle Carl's hat fell.

Anything to take my mind off the everlasting and allover tiredness I felt. It was like being drowned, slowly, the tenderness that felt like bruises scattering every muscle I could think off.

If you pushed me too hard, I would probably shatter.

The sense of vulnerability sent me into a wave of curling into myself. I wasn't feeling much inside but the need to keep to myself. To stop letting people help me because they're looking at me with pity, and sympathy. When I knew none of them could see inside my head and understand what I was going through.

Due to the fact that I never told anyone but Daryl and Shane about my occupation; nobody knew me.

Daryl was the only one I had ever told everything I could to.

And it wasn't even everything.

He was the only one of trusted to go near me when I was in this state. When I was sick beyond belief, with my guards down, and wanting to do nothing but lay down; Daryl was the only one I could trust to not hurt me.

Someone could hurt me, but he wouldn't.

So when he left it sent my gut into a swirling panic. He wasn't here to look after me and make sure no one hurt me, when I couldn't do it myself.

I wasn't feeling much of anything lately, all my emotions being behind a glass, with my fists lashing out at the surface, desperate to rekindle with my own self. But I still felt panicked.

My throat croaked out. "Wher-" i couldn't get out the other half before my voice cracked into a sharp whisper.

"Marley?" Lori turned her head towards me, brushing the hair that stuck to my forehead away. "What is it?"

"Where is everyone? Where did they go?" I didn't understand where everyone went. I couldn't multitask with everything around me.

Thinking only of the scraping feeling in my muscles.

"They've gone to a pharmacy to get you medicine?" She kept her voice quiet. I saw her look around us, then back to me. "Don't stress yourself."

I suddenly recoiled, hastily pulling my wrist away from Carol and curling into myself. My nails scraped my skin, digging heavily into my muscles in hope of stimulating some sense of warmth and relief.

The blanket they placed beneath me was scratchy and uncomfortable. The bare threads tickled my arms and cheek.

One of the women around me grasped my arms, turning me back over to my back. I let them because I was too tired to fight back psychically.

"Leave me alone," I whispered above me.

They didn't answer me, huffing at my guarded attitude. They didn't seem shocked that I didn't want anyone to be near me.

I had my eyes closed, but let one open to see if they were still there. They were, and I furrowed my brows in frustration.

Using both my arms, I lifted my upper body from the ground. My legs were restless and twitching.

I heard them say my name and felt then try to lay me back down, gently. But I brushed them off, leaning myself up against the fold down seat beside me.

I blew away the hair that fell into my mouth, licking my dry lips.

Carol reached out to me again, but I took her wrist into my own hand, throwing it away from me. "Leave me alone."

I hit my head against the plastic armrest, sending a coiled shock through my head.

×

Rain beat down on the window of the car, making it hard for Daryl to keep a single thought straight.

They really hadn't anticipated bringing home strays, especially ones with loud and irritating personalities.

Glenn had drawn the short straw, being squashed beside Will, who had a very unhappy laura huddled on his lap. He kept himself to the window, watching condensation crawl up the surface. It cooled their skins from the heat of paranoia.

The theatre was in sight, and it was a swift movement of opening the door as soon as the car came to a hault.

Daryl heard Rick giving the new strangers instructions, threats, bringing out his gun to prove a point.

All weapons they had were neatly tucked beside the mountains of medicine the three people had given them. Along with needles, bandages, gauzes, tape - it was a gold mine daryl didn't mind trading his peace for.

The rain, that was relentless and cold, wet down his hair.

It reminded him of how marley's hair stuck to her skin. How it clung desperately to every slick part of her neck.

He shook his head.

He burst through the doors, letting the terrorising wind slap them to the wall in a crack. Breathing heavily, his steps were forced and heavy on the ground, adamant to get the medicine to Hershel as Glenn and Rick dealt with their new found friends.

All eyes crossed over to him, and he squirmed under their gazes. Walking in and wetting the carpet with each step he took.

Rushing over to the older man, he presented his bag, letting the vet rummage past the multiple guns to the jars and boxes below.

"How's she doin'?" His words were thick with anxiety. He couldn't bring himself to look directly at the girl.

Hershel shook his head dissapointedly, my answering the man.

As the older veterinarian started to set up an IV for Marley, Daryl started to approach her.

Carols eyes were glued to him as he tiptoed down the aisle. He could just see the top of her head when Hershel's voice rang out to him. "Where's Rick and Glenn."

Daryl released a breath he had been unknowingly holding and turned on his heels. "Found some more people."

"What? _Who_?" Lori was the first to ask and many followed after her with similar questions in worried tones. They all crowed around him and just as the hunter felt like he would be smothered alive from their eyes alone, two men burst through the door with hands on other people.

They looked like drowned rats, their heavy winter coats dragging down on their bodies and showing off how little supplies any of them had.

Laura ran a hand through her hair, having her shoulder held by Glenn, she brushed him off and rushed towards the front of the theatre.

"Where is she?" she sounded abrasive but concerned at the same time. "You said you had a Marley! _My_ Marley."

" _Your Marley_?" Daryl cut off her steps by stepping in front of the woman, so she could no longer rush forward. They were in the middle of the theatre, dripping water onto the ground and staring each other down.

Daryl grasped the edge of his crossbow, but since Laura was exactly the same height as him, he had to discreetly tipptoe to make himself larged.

Rick, who had his arm on Will, loaded his gun and pointed it straight at the dark haired woman giving Daryl the death-stare. "Step back, Laura." His voice echoed on the chipped walls, bouncing around like a ringing bell.

Laura jutted her chin forward and stepped back unti Glenn had a hold of her arm again.

It was eerily silent for a moment, until Will spoke up. "You... you do still have a Marley though right?"

Whereas everyone opposite to the newcomers cowered away from them, holding each other close - Rick bit his lip and thought of what to say. "Let's just make sure it's the same one."

"We answered your fucking quest-" Will was cut off by the cold metal of a barrel to a gun

Distant coughs sounded, and the hunter instantly reacted and jolted on position. He took his gaze away from the new people and left to walk over to the front of the chairs.

There she was. She had herself curled upright against the seats, chin propped up on her knees with her arms tightly wrapped around them. Her eyes were closed until she heard him coming, then they were red and itchy looking up at him.

He just wanted to bring her close and brush the hair from her face, but he couldn't.

Instead, he went down on one knee, watching her own bloodshot eyes follow him. All other people in the room blurred out to a soft background noise. It was just her and him in that massive theatre, and he could feel the bubble closing in around them. But he still couldn't bring himself to clutch her hand in his own and brush his lips across her warm knuckles even though he so desperately wanted to.

He instead settled with grazing his own knuckles on her knee for a moment, catching her attention and making sure she wasn't doped up on her own sickness.

She traced the edge of her fingernail where his hand had been, sucking her bottom lip into her mouth.

"Sit up," Daryl murmured so only she could hear. He gently grasped her upper arms.

She looked at his hands oddly, and let him lift her up to sit on the red audience chair. She let out a long sigh as she watched him look over her head and at the people still talking behind her. Marley craned her neck tightly, watching upside down at the new people.

And the sudden gravity that she knew those people hit her neck and she sucked in a breath, causing her to choke because of the way her neck bent. And she whipped her head forward, skulking down further into the seat and widening her eyes.

"I know them," she whispered to Daryl. She shot out a hand to his arm, gripping it tightly. "That- that's Laura, Harvey and... Will." She swallowed, suddenly feeling extremely tired, closing her doe eyes and letting her head fall on to her own shoulder.

Her eyes fluttered effortlessly, and she let out a whisper for only him to hear. "She was that girlfriend I told you about."

"Harvey and Will; high school friends."

Daryl watched her chest fall and rise carefully, because everytime she closed her eyes he pulled on the invisible emotional string he had attached to her to see if she was still with him. It tugged at him too, and it hurt.

"Okay," his voice was low, as he picked up her small hand from his arm and laid it on her own lap, getting up from his kneeling position.

As he trailed to be beside her, rather than in front, he gave Rick a nod. It confirmed that the Marley they were talking about, was his- their Marley.

"As you can already tell," Rick came face to face with Laura, because she seemed to be the alpha of her pack. "You're not exactly gonna kip next to us."

"Didn't expect it," she said cooly, blinking lowly at the ex-cop. "But I need to see my Marley."

"She isn't _anybody's_ ," Maggie spoke up for once in a long time.

Silence struck the room like lightning and it only made Laura angrier that she couldn't see the girl. "Let me just see her face."

Daryl rested the side of his hand on Marley's shoulder protectively and discreetly.

Rick sucked his teeth, impatient, and annoyed that Daryl had offhandedly agreed to giving these people their company and protection. Winter was coming and they didn't need the extra mouths to feed but the rest of the group obviously cared about the redhead at the front of the theatre more than him.

"Fine."

Laura almost ran towards her, as she darted quickly to the front of the theatre.

And she came face to face with Daryl who stayed glued to the sick girls side. And she only had to swerve around him and grab the girls face to get a good look at the person she hadn't seen since Jimmy Blake took her away from her.

Laura placed her long fingers at the sides of her jaw. "Marley? Oh thank god." The dark haired woman brushed the hair from Marley's eyelashes, and breathed out a sigh of relief.

Marley's eyes were only wide and looked incredibly startled, as she let Laura hold her face.

"What happened to you?"

Before Marley could answer, which she wasn't going to do, Daryl pulled Laura's shoulder upwards to stand so he could be in front of Marley and not her.

"Think that's enough," Daryl growled, curling his hands into fists and knocking his heel with Marley's to have a sense of where she was.

Laura bit back the argument she had mustered up, seeing the way Daryl's eyes always darkened when she even mentioned the person behind him.

So she walked away and back to her own group, of Will and Harvey.

So Rick could give them limitations. They would not include full visiting privileges to the girl she still loved.

+

Daryl let his whole body relax, or at least her tried.

He never could relax fully when Marley looked at him. It was like he was trying to guard everything he held within himself. His emotions, and telltale signs of those.

Marley had been moved to the stage, where they arranged the most pieces of pillows and mattress they could find. They tried to make her as comfortable as possible, but with Lori and Rick she wasn't the first priority.

Rick wouldn't allow her to be the first priority.

So there she was on the stage, a thin blanket laid upon her, and he honestly felt as sick as she looked.

Looking at her like this broke him into more than two pieces, because he could not do a thing about it.

The only thing helping her in that moment was the tiny needle sticking into her arm and the fluids now flowing through her veins. Whilst all he could do was watch.

The night had gotten dark, and the group had turned in for the night. Most of them taking up the right side under the balcony section of audience chairs. And away from Marley, unlike Daryl, who had resided himself on the front row with his leg hitched up and hand over his mouth.

Glenn had taken first watch at the front desk, and someone else had to stay awake to watch their new companions.

Laura, Will, and Harvey slept soundlessly to his left.

And then there was her again, the only other person in the room that was awake and staring lazily at him.

"Go to sleep," he said quietly. His eyes faltered from her, scratching his cheek awkwardly.

She shivered, sweat dripping from her nose. She wiped her brow with the back of her hand. Marley could taste the salty sweat peaking into her mouth as she licked her lips feverishly. "I can't sleep."

"Then try."

"I can't," Marley didn't bother to whisper and all but bit him as she spoke. "It's- it's too cold... then it's too hot and- I can't."

"Well, that's your own damn fault," he leant forward now. "Taking whatever you was taking."

"I didn't mean to- mess it up," she let out a hushed sob and curled her fist into the blanket at brought it to her cheek. "I didn't want to."

He saw a silent tear trail itself down her cheek, and paint pale skin in place of the faint dirt that was once there.

"Jus- stop. You don't need to cry," he almost kicked himself. This was Marley. You have to deal with her with a little more... caution.

"I-" then she used the heels of her hands to lift her upper body from the bed.

So Daryl shot up, raising his hands up towards her as a silent usher to get her to lay back down.

And then she let out a shaky breath, tossing the blanket from her shoulders and swinging her little legs from the stage. Marley used both her hands to tuck her slightly damp hair behind her childish ears.

Daryl relished in this new feature of hers.

Marley's hair was one of his favourite things, and it hid those little round ears most of the time.

"Lay back down," the redneck ordered quietly. Daryl splayed his fingers on he shoulder to try and coax her back down, but she furrowed her brows and he didn't know whether it was from confusion, fear, or anger. So he removed his hand as she recoiled from it in turn.

Marley looked down to the carpet below, and then cast a meek look back to Daryl. And then her words were sqeaky and waspish. "I wanna sit down. I dot wanna lie down. My legs keep twitching. I ca- Daryl."

The last thing she said was his name and the rest of her words got sucked in through a breath, as Daryl, for what seemed like the thousandth time, hooked his hands under her arms and hoisted her little body towards his own.

Marley instinctively latched her small hands to his biceps, anchoring herself to him.

Even when he had put her down on the chair he once sat down on, so he had to carefully unclip her fingers from his shirt.

He made sure to wheel over her IV bag as well.

And her hands were once again in his own, and he wanted to just... hold them there. He wanted to trace his own rough knuckles against hers. To trace each line and bend as if he had to commit it to memory.

Like one moment she would be gone, and after that, his own memory of her would be all he could ever go off of.

But he lay them down on her own lap, folding her short fingers together, and sitting next to her.

He nervously brought a fingernail to his teeth, chewing on it absently.

"He's not here is he?"

Daryl stopped chewing and traced his eyes down to her hand that had once again latched it to him, a part of him, his sleeve.

He knew he couldn't just brush her off. That's not how you treat Marley.

So instead of recoiling from her touch, he leaned down, so his voice would be more level with her. "He?"

"I don't want to see him again," and it ended in a choke. "I don't want to- don't let him come near me please."

She started to full on panic and look around her, taking in everything around her. Sweat glistened off her skin and shook off as she violently lashed around her.

"No, no, no, please- don't hurt me i didn't do anything wrong."

He watched as Marley used the hand she once used to latch onto him and wrap is around her throat.

Of course, you can't choke yourself, but she started to hold her breath, as if to keep the image alive.

"Please don't hurt me," she said, strained, and face turning red.

Daryl had no fucking clue what to do, and he had no idea what was happening, but the closest thing that came to mind...

Nightmare.

"Marley," he growled, ripping her hands down, and looking her straight in the eyes, their noses parallel with each others.

Her eyes widened and enlarged so much he thought they would pop right out of her head. And those eyes looked down to the tight grip he had on her wrists, and her fingers splayed into the air, grasping desperately for release.

As much as he hated to handle her like this, he didn't let go.

"You don't ever call me Marley," she wasn't looking at him anymore, except at her hands. "Why did you call me Marley?"

Daryl played along with whatever was happening."What do I call you?"

Tears rolled fiercely down her cheeks.

" _Ariel_."

He shook her wrists away from him as if they were made of fire. "What? Marls, wake up."

And suddenly it was like a painting lost its color. All her wide eyes and shaking stood still, and it was like that night she lay in the cold grass, looking up to the stars.

With him hanging on every single word like it was the edge of a precipice.

" _Daryl_."

Another name she said, and it was pained with relief.


	56. vagabonds and dogs

Those weren't the worst days of my life. They weren't those type of days. But they weren't pleasant.

I spent most of my waking moments paranoid and warm, unable to find comfort in any way.

And then there were those three people, who reminded me of a time I wanted to forget. To never relive again yet everytime I laid my eyes on them, all I could think about was my birthday.

The condensation icing the window took most of my attention away from the conversation in the car, and I drew long lines along the surface, creating swirls and inaccurate lines.

"There's gotta be somewhere," T-Dog commented. I tore my eyes away from outside to look at the front seat.

"Do you think Rick has anywhere in mind?" Harvey asked. He was sat next to me, holding his hand tightly in his lap. "He seems to look like he knows exactly where he's going."

"I'm not sure any of us know where he thinks he's going," Glenn sighed. I looked over Harvey and towards Glenn, blinking slowly.

He looked tired, and not as positive as I normally saw him. It made me lose hope when people like him were so down. That nothing was ever going to be okay again.

I learnt that a long time ago. Those things were never going to be the same. Hope was no longer a choice; you were lucky to be given it.

"We haven't found anywhere as good as the theatre in a while," T-Dog continued. "It's too cold now to just keep moving around."

"It's too cold to do anything," Daryl added. He sat in the seat in front of me, disgruntled because he couldn't drive his motorbike anymore. When we acquired more people, we needed another car, and therefore couldn't spare enough fuel for his own private steed. I could tell he wanted to be alone with his thoughts but he had to grin and bear it.

I looked up to the mirror, watching his eyes scan the horizon.

Before he could spot me staring, I turned my gaze back to the window, biting my lip furiously.

The group had accumulated many woolen and thick lined coats and scarves on our travels. Big coats and gloves. Most of them went to Carl and Lori first; Maggie, Beth, and Carol second; Hershel, Glenn, T-Dog, Rick, and Daryl; then myself; lastly Harvey, Will, and Laura.

No one voiced how low on the food chain I had gotten, but I could tell I was always last.

I had managed to sneak a hat and coat, but what I craved were gloves.

We had only managed to find a few pairs, so most of us had been graced with numb fingers for the start of the winter. Rolling our sleeves down as far as possible, to try and fend off the shivering bite that came with the Christmas months.

I was turning twenty-one anytime soon.

I tugged on my hat, folding the ends over my ears. I was just ready to get out of the damned car and lay down.

"Do you need some water?" Harvey spoke quietly to me. I shook my head without looking at him.

I seemed to only close my eyes for a moment before the car came to a screeching halt and the lineup stopped.

My eyelashes flickered on the skin above my eyes as I came to look at a tall and harrowing house.

It had dark bricks and wet wood, spires, and gargoyles. In the middle of nowhere, it was an oasis of darkness and dust.

I simply frowned up at it, as I steadily stepped out of the car and blinked into the slow falling rain.

I heard more than saw Rick give out the orders about who was going in to search the house.

I glanced at Daryl getting out of the car, whilst leaning against the cold metal of it. I crossed my arms, rubbing the sleep from my eyes.

"Did you hear me?"

I jumped on the spot, turning to the majority of the group in confusion. Most of them had their eyes on me, expectantly.

I swallowed heavily, opening my mouth to speak but nothing came out and I ended up coughing lightly. But then I managed to find the words. "What?" I directed to no one in particular.

Rick was the one to reply. " _I said_ , you're with Daryl."

I couldn't believe it. It must not have been real because was the Rick Grimes giving me something to do.

He nodded somewhat supportively and then turned to face the house.

A body stepped to beside me, nudging my arm. It was Laura, and I could feel her long hair tickling my neck. "Go get em tigress."

Laura was clingy. Very clingy. I always put it down to her parents being divorced at ten years old, but we were only eleven when we started dating and I don't think someone that young can take a relationship that seriously.

I think she thought I still loved her. But how could I love someone when I don't even know what real love is.

I _did_ love her.

But that was the past, and the past is poison. I didn't want anything to do with it when the now was already so hard.

But there was still that heavy connection there. Even if it was weakened on my side, it was still there.

I looked up to her, fidgeting with my fingers in front of me, trying to woo some sense into myself but it was hopeless.

Then another person stepped to my other side, tapping me lightly with another object.

There was Daryl, with a rusted machete in one hand and his trusty crossbow in the other.

I took the sharp weapon in my hand, letting him place his hand between my shoulder blades to push me forward.

We came up to the front porch, all of us watching closely at the windows and all openings.

I stuck closely beside Daryl as T-Dog kicked down the door and immediately bolted inwards.

There were no walkers to start.

"Daryl and Marley; take the upstairs," Rick whispered, glancing over his shoulder at us before steadily pacing the halls.

Daryl lead the way up the staircase, and I admired how quiet he could make himself. How purposeful each step was.

And I was there behind him, my hand clenching the handle of my machete tightly.

I could hear myself breathe, and it was unsteady and sounded scared.

I still didn't feel much, though.

It was a long corridor, two rooms on each side and a long thin trail of blood going from one door to another.

The walls were hand painted dark red, dripping and old. Each had a myriad of scrapes and scratches, indents in the shape of human nails. Plaster chipped, and dust falling.

Daryl looked back at me, flicking hair from his eyes. He had his crossbow trained up, and he gestured to the right side of the corridor.

I separated myself from him, slowly reaching for the cold doorknob at the first door. Curling my hand around it tightly before yanking it open.

Whimpers echoed through the doorway, and I hadn't realised I squeezed my eyes shut until I had to open them up to an animal curled into its own dirt with a chain around its neck.

The dog lifted its head, tongue poking out from its mouth, eyes wide and scared. Scabs appeared above the creatures fur.

It looked like it tried to growl, but failed. It settled on scraping it's paws on the ground to try and get away from us.

I let out a breath I hadn't realised I held, slowly stepping backwards to where my back hit the opposite wall.

"Yal' right?" Daryl whispered into the air, not even glancing at me but keeping his head trained on the poor thing in the room.

"Yeah... just- _dogs_."

"You scared of them?"

"Kind of."

He lowered his crossbow, entering the room and I watched from my frozen position as he lowered down to be eye level with the dog.

I could see that Daryl was annoyed. He wasn't sad - just annoyed.

Angry even, at the world and how he knew he couldn't save a dog in this condition. The new world wouldn't let you.

"It ain't gonna hurt ya," he suddenly said. "Damn thing ain't got the strength to."

"I'm just staying here."

He scoffed at my adamant to stay away from the thing, but I couldn't kick this. This wasn't something I could choose not to be afraid of.

When I was five, I had a dog. Her name was Dandy but she didn't last a year. See, Dandy was small and she was sweet. But she was too small for our neighbour's dog, and I couldn't save her because I ended up going to the hospital in the process.

Some kids can recover from that, but I just _wasn't_ one of those kids.

"Can't save it," Daryl's solemn voice broke my thoughts. His voice was so quiet yet so angered.

He stood from his position, gently taking his crossbow from his shoulder and pointing it directly at the dog's temple.

A sharp sound snapped the air, and I could almost feel my heart cave in on itself at the sound of a dog being given peace.

And he was out of the room almost as fast as the bolt left his crossbow, directing me to open the door next to me.

I sighed heavily, doing the same as I did with the first.

_Nothing._

The next two were the same, all riddled with the stench of past life and death. No amount of cleaning could take souls away from a home.

But before we could go downstairs, I took the flashlight I had been carrying and pointed it to the ceiling where a hatch was.

"Shouldn't we check that?" I asked, raising my hand to playfully flick the piece of string hanging from the hatch.

My boots made a loud noise as I jumped up once, trying to find some grip on the string but there was no avail. "Help here, taller person?" My voice strained but I finally found grip, letting my gravity pull it down.

Daryl had already yanked me towards his chest before the ladder could shatter my skull. It fell in pieces on the floor in a heap of dust and wood.

"Whoah," I breathed out, uncurling my hand from where Daryl held it tightly.

Pointing my torch back up to the ceiling, a large hole was in the place of the hatch.

"Lift me up."

Daryl hesitated for a moment before wrapping his hands and arms around my thighs, lifting me off the ground and towards the attic. I raised my arms up towards the opening, grasping it tightly whilst still juggling my flashlight. Daryl raised me up, and I was plunged into the darkness of the attic.

But luckily, nothing was there to jump out on me, so I swung my legs back down to the second floor.

I planned to jump down on my own, but as I did, a pair of arms grasped my body tightly as I descended. They wrung around me, making the fall a little softer.

"Thanks," my voice was small and croaky. And I felt like I had something stuck in my throat because he still had a grasp on me. Like if I let go, I would fall further into the floor and he was the only thing keeping me up.

"Um," I stuttered. And it felt like it took everything out of me to uncurl my fingers from his coat. I looked up at him, licking my lips, stepping back.

He was like an enigmatic riddle and I was the philosopher trying to figure out everything about him. And no matter how hard I tried, I did not get anywhere.

"Okay," I added, brushing past him slowly, but there wasn't an empty hallway. Rick and Glenn stood there, in a stance that looked ready to fend off anything.

"We heard a noise," Rick explained, straightening up. "D'you find anything?" The direction of his voice was aimed over my head, as he didn't even glance at me, but kept his eyes on Daryl.

"Nah, jus' dead dog," Daryl stated evenly, coming up from behind me and walking past. He stood between me and Rick as if he sensed something would happen between us. But I didn't feel like fighting anymore. I didn't feel anything.

"Well," Glenn was the next to speak. "We've kind of got a problem."

Rick nodded towards the stairs and started to descend with us in tow, leading down to the ground floor. I followed closely behind Daryl, keeping him at arm's length.

Once we were downstairs, I spotted most of the group huddled together near another pair of stairs that lead further into the ground. There was T-Dog, Maggie, and Hershel, their arms crossed as they huffed in annoyance at a predicament I had yet to uncover.

"The door to the basement is jammed shut from the inside," Maggie explained, leaning against the wall. "Don't know what's behind there. Could be something dangerous."

"Could be nothing at all," Daryl added, shifting from one foot to another.

I tore my eyes away from the group and towards the living room, seeing if any more of the group had entered the building. But all I got was a vast and dark space, holding nothing but furniture and the overwhelming feeling that something was behind you. It made the hair on the back of your neck stand on end, like ghosts were standing close.

"We can't take that risk." And just as Rick said that I spotted something on the far wall in the hallway. It was a similar door to what the attic had, but was much smaller, and opened by two sliding doors.

I tugged gently on Daryl's sleeve, gaining his attention. He looked over his shoulder, then to where my eyes were fixed and he furrowed his brows at it.

"Hey, Rick,"he said gently, starting to briskly walk towards what I had found. The whole team walked past me after the hunter, watching as he fiddled with the handles before successfully opening it.

I took slow steps behind them, listening in on what their decisions would be.

"What is that?" Glenn voiced, stepping towards the contraption.

I walked to where I was beside Maggie, and she looked at me expectantly. I didn't speak a word, but until I saw everyone else looking at me.

"It's..." I coughed. "It's a _dumbwaiter_."

"What?" Rick asked, patting his hands in the thing.

"It carries stuff from floor to floor," I explained slowly, eyes wide and eyes on the contraption. "I had one in my house - they're normally in old houses. It should go to the basement."

"It's so small," T-Dog commented.

The group tried to figure out how they would make it work, trying different people. Rick tried first, but he was too tall. It was all the case for everyone until all but one had tried to fit.

And they were arguing. They started arguing as they tried and tried to come up with a solution to the jammed basement door.

As their voices started to raise, and Rick got angrier, I backed up into the dumbwaiter, taking a seat and watching the argument go down. I was tired, and my legs hurt. I really wanted to sleep after all that driving we had done. I needed to curl my hands into myself because it was freezing in that house despite the thick brick walls on each side of us.

"Wait," Rick suddenly said, turning on his heel to look at me. He leaned to one side, eyeing my position. I froze under his stare and watched the calculation commence behind his eyes. "It'll do."

He unclipped a walkie talkie from his belt, starting towards me which caused myself to back up further into the dumbwaiter. It was at that point I realised why he had approached me because I fit snuggly inside the little lift.

"No," Daryl protested, putting a hand on Rick's shoulder. "No, there ain't nothing down there, Rick, _don't_ make her do this!"

Rick only protested back. "I'm not bringing this group into a house where I do not know every inch of what it is." He threw the walkie talkie towards me, which I promptly caught. "We've got to compromise."

"Why am I a compromise?" I whispered so I could only hear. I brought my legs into the dumbwaiter, curling into a fetal position inside the lift, showing that I could, in fact, fit inside.

But Daryl was still protesting, and so was Maggie, and Glenn, and T-Dog. But I knew I had to do this. I had to prove to Rick that I could do things for the group. Because if I did not, for my own survival, Rick would continue to put me last.

It was a deal of the food chain, and I was at the very bottom with the people who had only just joined the group. Yet I had been here since the beginning, Rick did not treat me like family, similar to anyone else. I was like a burden.

No matter how many times he had scared me, or how much we bashed heads - I had to accept that I was not going to win.

I had to prove myself.

"I'll do it," my voice cut through everyone else. "I'll just- let's get on with it."

"Marley, you don't have to," Maggie said softly.

"No, _I do_."

  
■

 

the rest of the group had entered the house, all gathered at the dumbwaiter. They watched me get instructed on what to do.

Laura had argued with Rick, nearly starting something physical because of her distaste in sending me down there. I had to calm her down, and so did Harvey.

"Keep it on channel four," I forgot I was supposed to be listening to T-Dog, who was making sure the walkie was working. He had also put new batteries in my flashlight, and a small handgun.

I swallowed, staring at the wood wall of the lift in front of me.

"You know you don't have to do this," he said in a smaller tone, slouching.

I nodded, tucking myself further in and just waiting for them to lower me down there. Anything could be down there, but I had to do it for the group's and my own sake. There was no time for fear.

"Okay," Rick started. gaining the attention of everyone, away from their small mutterings about how much of a bad idea this was. I had to admit, this was not a good idea. Sending a single small person to somewhere we have no idea what had install. With only a small handgun, a flashlight, and a walkie-talkie - to potentially fend off what could possibly be an entire grouping waiting to ambush us.

But I was tired; we were all tired. We needed somewhere to sleep, and going further only risked the cars possibly slipping on the icy roads. There were thousands of dangerous possible situations that could happen.

This decision would at least have some certainty - and I had a gut feeling, that Rick saw no problem in risking my life.

"Marley is going to be lowered down into the basement, she's going to take a peek at what's down there, and possibly try to move what's jamming the door." The people all around me, anxiously tapping their feet on the ground as if they're in my shoes whereas I was perfectly still.

T-Dog grasped the rope of the lift tightly, ready to lower me down. Not before Lori patted over and took my face between her hands, placing a light kiss on my forehead. Looking into my eyes, the woman mouthed a "thank you", stepping back into the group.

And suddenly I felt a little more terrified, shuddering in the small space, holding the ends of my shoes anxiously. My blood ran cold, water spilling out of my eyes, and I turned my face away from them all. Sucking myself into a small bubble of panic I needed to overcome extremely quickly.

The dumbwaiter made a loud, rhythmic clanging sound as it started to descend, swallowing me in darkness. If I had only turned on the light, then maybe I wouldn't have felt like I may just be descending into a darker world.

Abandon all hope ye who enter here. And they should be made to crawl on their bellies to enter the kingdom of darkness.

" _Keep talking_."

I jolted in the tight space, almost knocking the entire thing back and forth. I had wondered... for a second - if _he_ was back.

" _So we know it works down there_ ," I could tell by the deep gravelly texture of his voice, and the overall tired yet pissed off attitude, that it was Rick talking to me.

"About what?" I closed my eyes tightly, breathing out through my nose. The dents in the walkie were digging into my palm, as I felt like I was almost crushing the small dirty item.

" _Anything_."

"Anything? Okay-" I opened my eyes, staring widely at the ceiling of the lift. "When I was seven, my brother told me a story. He told me that my mama, had another son before I was born. But he was too small - his name was Martin. And that's why they made my middle name Martin. He also told me that I wasn't his sister. Victor told me the reason our age gap was so far apart, was because my mama had been trying for another child for years; but she couldn't anymore."

"I _still_ don't know," I did not know why I was spilling my guts. "I don't know if it's true or he was just mad at me for stealing his Jessica Jones comic." My sentence ended with a light laugh, picturing Victor's face.

I had no idea where he was. And I probably wasn't going to see him again.

Maybe it was the fact that I was speaking into a communication device, and I was surrounded by no one but darkness, that I suddenly felt comfortable with speaking about things I hardly ever thought about anymore.

"I'm going to be okay," the words left a sour taste in my mouth. "I'm going to be perfectly fine."

" _You're gonna be fine, Marley,_ " a new voice emerged into the small space, sending a shiver down my spine. He must have ripped the walkie from Rick's hand as soon as I started talking about my brother.

And just like that, the lift came to a soft stop at the bottom of its decline. Everything was still and quiet, so if there was anyone on the other side of that door, they must have been holding their breath just as I was.

"Keep us updated," was the last thing he said before I turned my flashlight on. It burned my eyes, setting alight the whole space.

Ever so carefully, I took the small handle that opened up the other side of the dumbwaiter. Bit by bit, peaking my eyes to the surroundings.

There was nothing as far as my eyes could see, and a small cry escaped from deep within my chest, and I didn't know if it was something audible or something I felt inside, imagined.

I brought the top of the walkie to my lips, whispering into it. "I don't see anyone."

" _You sure?_ "

"Yeah, I'm sure." After giving the entire room a once over with the light, I pushed the doors so they were wide open. Cracking my back as I stepped out, I nearly fell to the floor but gained my balance back.

Everything felt tighter down here, my clothes, the air, my skin. Like the darkness around me was just as solid as myself, trying to squeeze something out of me. Like it was trying really hard to scare me. But unfortunately for the dark, I wasn't much scared of it.

"I found the door," and I had. It was right opposite the dumbwaiter, and I showered it with light, looking for what was blocking it.

As I came right up to the opening, it became apparent that there was a rusted dead bolt on the inside, along with shattered shelves, cans, anything you could find in an old basement like this seemed to have gravitated to the door. I put the torch in my mouth, bending down and holding the largest piece of wood to try and move it.

" _Marley?_ "

I quickly stopped what I was trying and failing to do, taking the torch from my mouth and fumbling with the walkie. I spoke clearly. "Yeah, I can't move whatever's in front of it."

" _Don't worry 'bout it_ ," his voice was calm and steady, and I took a moment to absorb the sound.

My shoulders slumped, relaxing at the thought that there was nothing down here and I could go back up. "I'll go back to the lift th-" I yelped, dropping my torch and walkie to the ground as a clatter echoed in the dark yet vast space. It sent a shockwave down my spine.

I curled my fists, breathing out, and looking around for the items I had dropped. Luckily, the torch pointed straight at the walkie and I picked it up with ease. Going straight to the torch afterwards.

But I didn't feel the hard dimpled plastic of the flashlight, the prickly grip. I felt something wet, sticky and cold. With what dim light the torch, still on the floor, provided, I splayed my fingers out in front of me. Displaying the pads of my digits, dripping with something dark.

As I stared at it more, with riddled and perplexed confusion, it dropped further down my hand, tickling the small hairs on my arms; it took it's sweet time painting my wrist.

My feet had a life of their own, as they instantaneously stepped backward, away from the flashlight and substance.

And another sound echoed, a small concentrated crack beneath my heel.

By then, I had little to no air coming in or out of my body.

A low growl sounded; a haunted whisper chapping from the jaws of what could only be an animal of some kind.

It stepped into the light, wide, almost black eyes staring me down. It's yellow teeth bared as it curled its lips back. Hair matted and black, back arching. Everything about it screamed my worse nightmare.

Fear is defined as a feeling of anxiety and agitation caused by the presence or imminence of danger - and it was staring me right in the face.

" _Mar-_ " his voice was cut off because my finger kept shaking against the button. " _Mar- What? Marley!?_ "

As Daryl's voice became the only thing I could hear, the dog's growl scattered. Each sound hit me like ice, stabbing at each bone in my body until I suddenly felt like all the emotions I had lost in these past few weeks were surging back into my body. They shook from within me, the reactor bursting like a soda can shaken up too much. I was bursting at the seams and it was clear from the panic attack rising up from the back of my throat.

I felt like I was drowning; and only then had I realised I left the gun T-Dog gave me back in the dumbwaiter, tucked into the corner.

With every ounce of strength left within me, my knees bent slowly, lowering myself down to the ground and reaching forward to the only light source in the room.

The animal sniffed at the light; it must have been the only light it felt in months. I ignored the liquid coating each side of the torch. As it moved, it only darkened further the edge of my nightmares.

It was only a split second. A moment hanging on the tip of an iceberg I was sure to slip off.

A sharp knock made its way to my ears, and I only then realised it was coming from the door.

And the dog lunged, opening it's jaws towards me, jumping through the blood; hungry for anything.

In that split second, I raised the walkie to my lips and screaming till my lungs bled raw. " **Daryl, there's a dog!** " The arm holding the walkie became the victim, as a sharp feeling seared it like a hot iron.

And all I could do was scream; shaking and writhing on the floor as the creature kept its jaw locked on my arm. " **Daryl! Daryl, a dog! There's a dog!** "

Knocking. _More_ knocking. I couldn't scream for them to stop because I was too busy screaming for my own life, and one of my greatest fears latching onto my skin, ripping at it.

The flashlight. It was within my reach, and I did - I reached for it, using it quickly and blindly as I hurled it at the dog's nose. It let go. The next thing, I was running in the dark feeling my way back to the dumbwaiter. I tripped and cried, finally feeling the wall that surrounded the opening.

Rushing in, feeling around for the walkie I so desperately hoped I kept close. And I did, rushing to close the doors, whispering and scratching desperately into the device. " **Get me up! Get it up! Wheel me back up! Please! Please!** " And much faster than I descended, it went upwards with a jolt, shaking me like a breath of fresh air. I sucked oxygen into my lungs so fast I thought my insides would ignite. A pain radiated throughout me so much that I forgot where exactly I was bleeding from.

The doors opened, and I jumped out clutching onto the first body close enough for me to latch on almost as tight as that dog held me.

I clung to their body, their shoulders and chest. I sobbed wildly, my blurry vision only making out dark figures around me. I had been pulled from the depths, and into a warm embrace that clutched me back.

I cried. I wailed. I sobbed. I was so scared, but most of all, I felt it _all_ come back. Anything I had lost that night on the farm, coursed through my veins all over again.

The feeling of fear at myself, the relief of seeing Daryl, the sick pleasure of killing Randall. The grief, the pain, the guilt. I felt it all.

I only clung tighter to the person, basking the feeling that closeness could give me - and how much I had done to become a person to protect anyone I cared for.

I had destroyed myself; I realised that now.

There was no going back.

So it was only forward from here.

 


	57. the snow

I didn't flinch, even as the string wrung through my skin. It pulled taught, tugging on my flesh. I just kept my face down, eyes closed. I was too tired.

The grip I had on Daryl was vice-like. I didn't know whether he felt uncomfortable or not about the position we were in; him sitting on the sofa, with myself clutched and close to him. I had my arms wrapped around his neck, nose nuzzled into the dip in his shoulder. I let my body relax against him, only opening my eyes once or twice to see Hershel still tending to my arm.

He had a concentrated look on him, handling me gently and carefully - which I appreciated to no end.

Blood had coated Daryl's back, dripping down the wings on his leather over jacket...

Footsteps approached the room, gaining my attention away from the darkness behind my eyelids, and the stitches now riddling my arm, to the doorway where a new figure stood.

Everyone else had congregated away from this one, giving me space and silence. No one spoke a word when I was pulled from the dumbwaiter, simply ushering my sobbing body to a lighter area of the house.

Hershel cut the last stitch, wrapping gauze where he had done his handy work. I wiped my nose, staring at the new scar I would have. Mix it in with all the other ones, and it became something of a shell. A sign of past weakness. "There we go," he whispered, laying a hand on my shoulder for a moment before standing up from his seat, brushing down his shirt.

Rick stepped further into the room, taking steady steps towards the three of us. He had put his gun somewhere else, I noticed. He approached my eyes like he could still feel the friction between us.

I had grown tired of that feeling.

Sure, we had scared each other. Hurt each other. And it was time to move on from it because I'm sure he knew what we had done to each other.

I shuffled backwards from Daryl, taking a seat in the far corner of the sofa, crossing my legs over one another. The man I once held looked between me and the ex-cop, and I nodded in assurance.

Both Hershel and Daryl left the room, leaving only Rick and me, taking up the air.It was quiet. So quiet and I needed him to talk first because I was sure I had already screamed all the words I had left, down in that basement.

"I'm sorry."

I whipped around in my seat so fast my stomach spun. He had an almost ashamed and embarrassed look on his face, taking his fingers and pressing them into his forehead, closing his eyes tightly. "I'm sorry, Marley," he repeated, putting more feeling into the words I had heard from no one.

"What?" My voice whistled, going no higher than a single decibel. I wrung my hands together in my lap, only moving my right arm slightly due to the pain that still pulsed through every nerve.

He stepped closer, slowly taking a seat on the other far end of the sofa. He didn't look at me for any moment, instead staring at the space between his knees, curling his hands into fists. "I'm sorry for having you go down there."

A pause lifted between us, and the only reason I spoke was to fill the air with words. "We had to see what was down there."

He handled me with a gentle touch to his words, and I appreciated how much effort he was putting into his words after everything I had done.

After everything I had done, I was grateful to each and every single person who treated me like a human being in the group. Because I had treated them so selfishly, yet I was just trying to be something I couldn't put a word to.

"I'm grateful," he voiced my thoughts, looking to my eyes and then down to my arm which lay limply over my crossed legs. "Has anyone asked you if you're okay?"

I smiled... for what seemed like the first time in an extremely long time, my lips curled at their edges but folded as to not smile too much. "Yeah," I breathed. "Hershel, and Glenn, and Lori..."

I could hear them now, shuffling in the room behind us as they prepared an evening meal. Something of leftover anything. Their small chatter, because Hershel had ordered them to be quiet.

"It funny how much people don't know what happened that night," I felt a tug to the past. "I don't think they would understand." I kept my eyes glued to his, which stared right back and I saw the answer forming behind all judgement.

"It's okay."

And that's all I needed. I didn't need much more.

More footsteps, and I turned in my seat, wiping the dry crusted tears that formed at the nape of my neck.

Lori stood there, Carl under her arm. They looked expectantly towards us, waiting. So Rick stood from his chair and approached them, stopping just as his legs were parallel with my body. "C'mon, you need to eat." He waved his hand to the door and continued leaving the room. He left me in the quiet, to gather myself without any disturbance from anyone else.

But the silence was sliced through smoothly, as I expected Hershel to enter - or even Daryl - I welcomed the sound of footsteps until it was someone I didn't need to see.

"Are you okay?" She whispered, kneeling down. Laura had her hair up in a ponytail now, and it tumbled over her gaunt shoulders. "I was waiting till Rick left. What did he say?"

"He said sorry," I smiled, tilting my head sideways and moving forward to step off the sofa. But Laura brought her arms up to rest beside my knees, closing me in. I sucked my bottom lip into my mouth as her clinginess kicked in - she couldn't help it. "I'm hungry let me leave, please."

"You could have died," she stressed, astounded at my casual attitude after getting bit by a dog. "You could have died, Marley. Don't you get that?"

"Yeah, _Laura_ , I get it. I'm just very familiar with the feeling," my eyes widened and I could feel the heat rising up my neck. I breathed out, tucking my hair behind both my ears.

"I could have lost you," tears welled up in my eyes. And I found it really hard, even after finding myself again, to care. "I can't lose you."

Her point didn't seem to sink in as much as she wanted to, as she stared at both my eyes, looking for the emotion I once held above her. The love I once had for her. But it still wasn't there, and it didn't think it ever will be. It won't. I'm not that girl anymore.

I'm not the girl who clings to anyone who loves her anymore. Anyone who gives me attention. I don't pine for comfort even if it comes with pain - at least, I don't think I am.

Nothing could love me, _especially not me._

"Are you listening to me?" She said aghast, her breathing quickened as if she was running five miles just to get her words out. It obviously meant a lot to her.

And so she found another way to get words into me. To somehow get her point across that she definitely wasn't over me. She pressed her words to my lips with her own. She pushed so far into my mouth, I could taste every syllable she needed to get across.

Her lips were soft and fast. They were desperate as she cupped my face, and made me flashback to a time before everything awful happened. The feeling intrigued me so much that I pushed back as if it were a sword fight and I needed to know what my opponent would do next. I felt like I couldn't breathe under the crushing feeling of flashback. It was not exciting and new. It was not something I enjoyed but curiosity got the better of me in that moment, and I could not help but push my own words into her own mouth.

I felt her ponytail between my fingerprints, curling my hands into fists like I was clutching a river; the water. Along with that was the drowning. It was not good - and I had been through so much of that, too much, I knew I would have to stop and push away from something too familiar and too close to a time I crumbled in my own body.

I bit down, tasting blood for half a second.

"Ow!" She exclaimed, bringing her hand to her face in shock and letting me brush past her body without a passing glance.

"It's not-" I stuttered, stopping in place with my hands facing my thighs with splayed fingers. "It's not like _that_ anymore... you have to understand." I spun around, spotting her now licking her lip that had turned red. I shook my head, over and over again.

"The past is the past, and you are the past, Laura," I pointed a finger at her from my side of the room. "I cannot associate myself with that anymore."

"I'm not Jimmy, I never did that to you."

I rushed towards her, and as I did, she backed up into a wall. Every word that came out of me had a purpose, and an almost bruising impact that was harsher than her approach. "Do not talk to me about that disgusting piece of shit!"

I could feel a fire in my eyes, as I blinked wildly. "There's this dark space inside me," I whispered. "And you're unfortunately buried way beneath it."

I turned away from here, going to walk out of the room, but was stopped as her words were thrown once again. "I love you, Marley."

There was not much I could say. No one had said that to me in years, and so, it did not come with the familiarity the rest of Laura came with.

I leaned up against the doorframe, holding a gentle hand to my arm. "I don't know even know what love is."

I gave Laura a passing glance, before exiting down the hallway.

■

As the night grew darker, and the moon rose, the floors got cold - we ate our supper huddled in a circle. Our legs crossed over one another, diving into a small meal - which is all we could make.

Lori had made sure I got something to eat earlier than most, something I was not used to these past few months. I remember I would go days without eating back on the farm, just to feel a different kind of empty. Like the panging hunger would reach my brain and become crippling so much so that I would forget what I was becoming.

And then we were approaching winter, and it was not voluntary. Looking for scraps in every house we found, going down to even the most minuscule and unsatisfying meals just to survive. It made you want to kick the past you for not appreciating things like ice-cream when we could.

I focused more on the bowl in front of me rather than the small conversations that flew over my head until I heard Beth call my name. "What?" I wiped my lips, seeing most people looking at me.

"We were just talking about our present as a kid," Beth gave a small smile my way but it was not returned as I looked back down to my knees, hoping I wouldn't have to talk about it. I withdrew from the conversation at my own will, ignoring what she said to me.

"I was wondering-"

"Beth," Maggie cut in, and I saw her tap a hand on her sister's knee to get her attention. Beth gave a small "oh" before withdrawing from the conversation herself.

I gave a shaky breath, coming to the bottom of my bowl. I stared into it with furrowed brows, suddenly feeling a chill wash over me and I drew my hands into the sleeves of my jumper.

"Are you cold, sweetie?" Carol, who sat beside me, leaned in and whispered.

"A little," I answered honestly, closing my eyes. I only had on a thin jumper, and my hat had been discarded somewhere, I didn't know.

I jumped in place, almost letting out a yelp as a scarf drew itself around my neck, falling over my hair and shoulder. My icy skin already felt warmer.

"There you go," Lori then said, rubbing my shoulders with her thin hands. I looked over my shoulder to see her rubbing her growing abdomen.

Lori always had more food than anyone else, which I understood. There was no way I would protest against that, but it made my stomach turn to think that I may have been like that. I didn't get that.

I didn't get my baby, and she was getting hers.

Jealousy wasn't even the word, it was green envy that crept over my skin every time I looked at the woman. It wasn't even that I wanted a baby now, but it was the missed opportunity that life gave me that made me want to throw up.

I suddenly felt like I had not eaten a thing, and I couldn't tell if the emptiness inside was because I wasn't full or that something was missing.

I clutched the scarf around my neck with one hand and used my other to push myself off the floor.

"Where are you going?" Carl asked, in a small voice and through a mouthful of food. He looked desperately towards me like I just hinted I was going to run away.

"Just for some air, young sir," I smiled, blinking slowly and doing my best to get away from everyone as fast as possible. And I was hit with even colder as the front door swung open.

Wood creaked beneath my shoes, and my lips parted against the cold air.

I hadn't realised for so long what it felt like to grieve and here I was with the snow falling to the ground, and that feeling was here again. It stung, like a sharp punch to the gut. It lingered in my head all the way down to my toes, like an ache in your ribs you could not rub out.

"What're you doing here?" A voice broke my thoughts, and I turned towards it to see no one else but Daryl with a cigarette between his lips.

"Standing," I stated evenly, after a moment of looking at him and the way he sat. He had one leg hitched up on the bench that sat by its lonesome on the porch. I brought the cigarette to his mouth once again and took a drag. My gaze lingered for a moment longer than I intended.

" _Up_ ," I added as an afterthought, dragging my gaze once more to the sky. I forwarded, leaning against the wooden post that held up the roof at the front of the house. I let the snow fall around my shoulders, icing every inch of my skin it could reach. Falling across my eyelashes and hair.

"I hate the snow," I made sure I was loud enough so he could hear me, and I swiveled around to lean my back against the pillar so I could see him again. I held my ribs with my uninjured arm, feeling tears well up in my eyes and I tried everything I could to not let them scorch my cheeks but they did as I blinked once.

"How can you hate the snow?" He asked dumbfoundedly, throwing his burnt out cigarette over the fencing around the porch. He leaned back further into his seat and so did I, kneeling down to the floor and letting myself hit it in a pile of cold skin and cold bones.

"If something bad happens... when snow falls," I kept my eyes on him as I spoke. "You can hate its guts if the snow had any."

The cold brought a throbbing pain to my arm I didn't intend to feel, and I clutched it towards my chest to try and woo some warmth into it but it was hopeless.

"Y'alright?" Daryl leant forward so his elbows hit his knees. "Does it hurt?" I nodded, standing up has he waved his hand towards himself. I approached the bench and sat beside his own body, knocking my thighs with Daryl's.

I held out my arm, as I rolled up the sleeve of my jumper. But a hand stopped my own, letting the fabric fall across my arm once again as they guided my fingers down towards my wrist.

"You don't need to show me," he said quietly.

I watched his hand linger over my knuckles and curl slightly. The way they moved, I knew he was scared. Daryl was not used to this - the comforting - but he didn't have to anything for me, he would just need to be there and it would help.

I flipped my palm over, ever so slowly, letting his hand stay there longer.

We just let our own branded silence sing itself away around, and we could just sit. We sat beside each other and I felt my chest grow heavy and full with something I could not name. It was not familiar as we both leaned forward, with parallel skin and shoulders.

For once in my life, the snow did not bother me even for a second that he sat beside me.

And suddenly... I was nervous. I could feel it on him too, like a lingering breath. And I could feel his eyes on me. They pierced into my side and it hurt, good.

I turned my head left, catching him look away and retract his hand. He shuffled back to the bench, bringing his hand that once curled into mine to his lips.

I was... disappointed, let down. Like something had been taken from me, and I desperately wanted it back.

"Daryl?" I leant back with him, hugging my knees to my chest. The pain in my arm had lessened but at least the piercing grief no longer lingered over every thought I had.

"Mhm," he mumbled through his hand, casting his blue eyes to my green ones. I almost forgot what I was about to say.

"Do I make you nervous?" I furrowed my brows, making sure I could see the entirety of his face so I could at least try to read any emotion that came across it. "Be honest."

I could tell it took everything- absolutely everything inside of him to not just get up and walk away because I knew that Daryl was a closed in person and he didn't like talking about his feelings. He had this steel covering over his soul, and I was one of the people who knew why.

The pause was so long between the question and answer, I thought I wouldn't answer at all. Such an ambiguous question to such a straightforward but complicated person. And the answer directed to someone as much so.

He gave me one word that made my whole body warm and my heart clench. "Yeah."

I didn't take time in answering the question myself. "You make me nervous too." An unwanted smile rose to my face, and I looked down to my lap. I breathed out, letting my shoulders relax like a fifty-ton weight had been lifted from my mind. Like a rusty gate had been finally opened.

I felt my shoulder bump him, and I let my cheek press up against it, closing my eyes as Daryl welcomed the contact. His heat radiated off of him, through our souls and thoughts and I could tell without even looking at him that I was in his as much as he was in mine.

I lay my arm on his thigh, palm facing upwards and waited to see what happened. And he gently avoided where my bandage was, the curling his last three fingers over mine. The cold did not bite anymore and I felt like stars were growing in my body, lighting up my senses and keeping warmer than any scarf, hat, or coat ever could.

I closed my eyes, letting out a breath through my nose.

I hadn't felt more comfort since my parents were alive. It was the equivalent of them kissing my bruised knees, but it was different.

Daryl was different to me.

"Marley?" A voice cut through everything, and it wasn't Daryl's. I opened my eyes, not moving from my position.

It was Harvey, standing with his hands wrung together, and a nervous glance on his expression. "Can I talk to you?"

I nodded, and he spoke again.

"I need to tell you something."


	58. crossfire

Taking the silver can in my hands, I turned it round in my palms, searching the worn label. Colours faded, and a dent in it, I swallowed heavily from the growing hunger in my stomach. Each day we had to eat whatever we could find, testing packages that were out of date - everything stale, and hard.

I was surprised my pallet could tell the difference between anything anymore; everything was the same. There was no sense of individuality in the world anymore, no colour, no entertainment. It was a constant reminder that the whole world had changed, and the old one was never coming back.

I sighed heavily, dropping the can into my backpack. "Not much here," my voice cracked. I turned on my heel towards Laura, who faced away from me her back hunched forward. She nodded, looking over her shoulder for a moment as she gathered boxes of kid plasters from the shelves in front of her.

We were put into silence again, keeping our ears open to anything dangerous. We had Rick at the front of the shop, gun risen, and Daryl walking around.

As he passed my mind, the man came into my view, walking to the end of the aisle. We reflected each other's tired glances, gravitating towards each other.

"How much more have we got?" I whispered, tucking my hair behind my ear and zipping up my bag.

"Not too many," he looked over my head and at Laura, eyeing her carefully before patting me on the shoulder and turning around. I watched him walk away from me and out of sight, before spinning on my heel.

Laura was now facing me, sniffing inwards as she rubbed her red nose - one we had all acquired over the winter. Along with coats heavy with rain, sodden boots, torn clothes. Everything was make do, and it was hard to replace something so low on our list of priorities.

"Finished?" I asked quietly, ready to leave the store that held little to nothing.

She didn't answer, except turning to look away from me. We hadn't been the same way, forever. She couldn't accept that it wasn't ever going to be the same again. She was naive. Laura even had the audacity to say "when this is all over."

You didn't have to be as cynical as me to realise that was never going to be the case. We had already experienced the trouble of trying to convince Hershel and his family that the end was no longer coming, it was here. I was too tired to try and do it again.

"I'm _trying_ , okay?" Her voice struck me, as I didn't expect her to speak to me. Many things had become a part of my life, and unfortunately, these short abrasive conversations between me and my ex-girlfriend were one of them. "I'm trying to get over you."

I looked at her wide-eyed, bringing a hand up to scratch my head for a moment. I felt the need to just step back and let her brew in whatever she was feeling because her mere presence still made me feel sick.

My eyes closed. "I can't do anything to help," I didn't know why we always whispered when we went on runs, or whenever I had a conversation. The world was quiet enough now that we could whisper everything to each other, like secrets, like stories.

"I know you can't," she said quickly, going to walk past me before taking a moment to look me up and down. "I just-" she bit her tongue. "You don't realise how hard it is to get over you, do you?"

It sounded like she was telling me off for... existing. And her height compared to my own was slightly unnerving. But I knew she couldn't lay a hand on me without hating herself.

"Trust me," I tilted my head. "It's very easy to think you're a piece of shit when you're me, so I really don't understand how hard you are finding it."

"Marley, you make people get real close to you."

"I don't _make_ people do anything," I hissed, suddenly feeling a bubbling anger grow up in my throat as my words came out as one long underlining threat. "You can't move on, that's your own fault."

"I'm sorry that I _cannot_ forget how much a piece of something special you are," her voice was steady and unemotional. "You really cannot see it, and that is one of the tragedies I know well."

She knocked arms with me, taking quick steps away. I simply rubbed my eyes with the heels of my hands, trying to get the rest of the sleep I could never get, out of them.

I shook my head, furrowing my brows for a moment as I let out a groan of frustration.

"She say something?" A voice came up from behind me, making me spin around quickly, almost giving me whiplash. It was Daryl, stood guarded and switching his eyes to look at me and where Laura had gone.

"Um," I pressed my fingers to my forehead, gathering myself. "Not really."

He rose an eyebrow, looking at me with disbelief.

"What?" I took closer steps, crossing my arms and looking up to his height. He didn't answer, instead not wavering his eyes from my own and I was the first to look away, but only for a moment as I asked him again. "What, Daryl?"

"She ain't giving up," he finally said, shaking his head in disappointment and distaste.

"Give her a break, she's attached," I took his forearm in my hand. "C'mon."

I walked briskly to the front of the store, keeping Daryl beside me and I swung my bag over my shoulder. It was a short walk as we came to the glass doors where Laura and Rick were waiting.

Rick had his gun drawn, swinging it lightly between his hands - impatience painting his expression.

Laura, Will, and Harvey; were unknowingly being tested.

Harvey and Will had been lead to the back of the shopping centre by Glenn and T-Dog, whereas Laura and I were with Daryl and Rick. Even numbers made it easier to cover each other. But it was hard, being made to spend a day with the people you wanted to forget.

Rick had asked me to come along because I knew them the best, and I only agreed because it would be good for the group. I would have to suffer with being in the company of someone like Laura.

"Sure you're okay?" Daryl said quickly before we came into earshot of the others. I quickly nodded, coming in front of Rick and Laura.

"Right," Rick huffed, glancing at my bag and then around where he stood. "Next."

We moved in formation towards the next store. We had to skip the next one, because of how boarded up it was. The shopping centre was so large, that any hacking into any doors would echo extremely. We didn't want to make any more noise than we wanted to.

We came across a meat shop, or a butcher's. They had faded red signs, blue streamers hanging from each opening in the doors and windows, some stuck to the cracked paint. Te glass was dusty and foggy, showing no image of what was on the other side.

Rick curled his fist and rapped on the front, trying to wipe any of the grime away. But he was only met with nothing.

"Going in?" Daryl asked his friend, shuffling on his feet beside me.

Rick nodded, trying once again on the window with his fist, before going to the door and opening it with ease. It was unlocked and knocked against the wall as it swung out.

I was the second to walk in, and it was dark as we came up to the counter. It was incredibly, and surprisingly clean. Everything was boxed and wiped, where the meat should have been was dusty and empty. Each shelf that decorated the walls held on plastic Tupperware containers of useless utensils. Nothing in this small space was useful to us.

And all us knew there was nothing, so we moved again through the door behind the counter. I shuffled with the weapon in my arms, adjusting the weight so it wasn't sticking in my ribs.

The back of the meat store was not much different, except this time, two rows of metal clinky shelves lined the room. But there was nothing to see, nothing to show. It was so foreign to be in such a clean place, it almost felt intrusive as our dirty shoes left footprints on the stark grey concrete.

I looked down to the floor at the pattern, biting my cheeks.

And then, right at the back, there was a large metal freezer door. It reached to the top of the ceiling, right from the bottom of the floor. It had a rusted handle closing it, and I watched as Rick steadied himself to open it.

Laura and I walked over to where we were behind some shelves and watched from afar as Rick and Daryl got ready for anything that was on the other side. And yet, as Rick yanked it open with his gun raised, nothing was on the other side.

My hopelessness was being concentrated, it was being tested today, Each store held new surprises, but I would rather be met with something rather than nothing. The vast emptiness of this world always got on my nerves. Our lives used to be filled with things we wanted to do. Now we had this.

Rick stepped carefully into the doorway, peering in with Daryl in tow. I walked around the shelves, listening to their footsteps.

Just before Daryl walked in behind him, he held out the door and nodded towards me. I rushed over, taking the handle in my hand and holding it open as Rick and Daryl ventured further. If this door closed, there was no way of getting out without it being opened from this side - so I had to keep a firm grip.

And I was hit with the tension, the responsibility, and how quiet we all were. I didn't know if this was the norm, or that we were all so tired we didn't bother to communicate.

I stood impatiently on my toes, letting my arms hang from their sockets as I let my body relax as much as possible, finding the time to make my muscles less tense.

The breath was knocked straight from my chest and up to my head where my cheek pressed against the now, unfortunately, closed door. I yelled out in pain as a hand held the back of my head, forcing my body forward. I heard the large clunk of the handle closing and locking.

"Hey there," a low voice whispered into my ear, and I shivered for a moment before trying to push backwards. The stranger only turned me around and held me tightly by the throat. Squeezing, my feet lifted off the ground and no words could be made as I choked, spluttering words.

I couldn't see who was around me, as my chin was forced upwards. I couldn't breathe, I couldn't do anything to get myself out of that predicament.

Along with all of this, I could hear distant shouts echoing from the large door; the one I was supposed to keep open, but now it was closed with Daryl and Rick still inside.

"We're not killing her, James, loosen it up," my thoughts were torn from the shouts and I tried to figure out how many people were around me.

James must have been the one holding me, as the grip on my neck loosened to where my feet touched the ground once more, and my lungs could actually take in a small amount of oxygen. I looked around, trying to wring the hands from myself.

My eyes were wide as I looked around, spotting two other men; and one of them held Laura's head steadily in his own hands, just as James was with me.

"Which one, quickly?" the one who did not hold either of us, stood between with his hand on his hip. His eyes peered at us, and I could only watch him for a moment before I started to struggle more.

It only resulted in the grip tightening on my windpipe, and I let out a long audible sound.

"They're both nice."

"This one's smaller."

"Clever, less of a fight," I heard them laugh, and I heard Laura whimper. I cast my eyes over to the brunette, spotting the tears now glistening her cheeks, falling onto her lips and painting her jawline. She frowned towards me, trying to reach over with an open hand.

And now, due to the sheer intensity and fear I was experiencing, I felt liquid roll down my own cheeks. But I didn't care; I didn't care that I could taste the salt of my own tears, or that they blurred my vision to where everything around me looked and felt like I was drowning in it.

The whole world blurred in my vision, as I felt hands hold me in place against the hard wall. And I felt anger, at the men. My bones ached in my skin, wanting to lash out. And I tried, I really tried - but my strength was not enough.

After all, this time, I was still weak.

"We settled?" One of them said I didn't know which.

I didn't have much of an idea of what they were saying, or what they were talking about, but their intentions were clear. And my imagination got the better of me as I pictured what they would do to us.

But this time, it was only one.

The man holding Laura, shook his pistol from his belt, steadying the barrel between her eyebrows and pressing it firmly.

And I could feel my heart rise up in my throat, the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end, as I watched Laura stare calmly at the trigger.

"No-n-pl-" I tried to get out, but was stunted as both my anxiety and constricted throat would not let me beg for our lives.

" _Marley! Laura!_ " I could hear the people I cared about screech their lungs out, and it was the only piece of hope I had left in those seconds.

I begged the world for everything to go to plan, and for Glenn to emerge from the front of the store, or for the door to break, or anything else to happen besides either of us getting hurt.

Their intentions were insidious, and I didn't look forward to the coming moments no matter what they held.

"Hey!" the one who just stood held his hand up towards the other, making him lower the gun.

I breathed out, halting my failed words and watching carefully. The way the men looked at each other, the way their eyes communicated, to try and decipher my next move based on theirs.

The man finally spoke, a smirk on his lips. "That'll waste bullets."

And the man took Laura's head forward, briskly forcing it back onto the hard, concrete wall.

I let out a scream, trying to struggle and writhe in the grasp of James. But it was entirely, and utterly hopeless. I could hear my sobs in my head, my tears drip like they knocked against my skull.

As if, just like Laura now, blood trickled down the centre of my forehead.

Her body fell limp, her eyes once full of passion, now dull and faded.

I screeched more, wiggling around for something. And all whilst the men smiled, I found my purchase on the side of James' trousers. Where he held his own gun, right beside a sharp object I presumed to be a knife.

They laughed, and they casually stood, and I gripped it firm in my hand just as James turned his eyes towards me - and I struck it into his left, piercing what we all needed nowadays, with his own goddamn weapon.

His grip on my loosened, to where he was no longer holding me and he screamed. He brought up his hands shakingly, mixing his fingers in the blood that streamed down his face just as my tears were.

I felt, rather than heard the click of a gun from behind him, and so I held James' shoulders. I pushed him in front of me, just as gunshots filled my ears. His body provided a barrier, and it shook in my hands as more blood spurted from his body. And he slumped to the ground.

I didn't register them coming for me, as I used all my strength to turn and run towards the door that needed to be opened. There was no hope for me if I did not find a way for Daryl and Rick to get out of there.

More hands grasped me, pulling me back and throwing me down to the floor where the ground clipped my cheek, scraping it harshly. I fumbled in my place, turning onto my back just as the man who seemed to be the leader lifted me up.

He spoke some harsh words I did not hear because everything was blurred and frantic - I did not have time to listen to disgusting words.

I yelped as he grasped my hair, pulling it harshly and standing me up. I kicked him where it hurt, and he doubled over. The gun in his hand was opportune, so I grasped it firm, aimed it up his chin, and pressed his finger to pull the trigger.

I did not have time to relish my victory, as weak knees got the better of me and my whole body fell to the ground once more.

It seemed both these men and myself were weak. They were dumb. I was using what they had against them. Then came the sudden realisation that they could use those against me, as I came face to face with the last man, just as he kneeled down to my height.

To stick a knife between my ribs.

I choked out, feeling as helpless as I did when they first grabbed me. As helpless as all those years ago. But the feeling of metal slicing into my muscle between my bones, and the way he held it so tightly in place; it was new.

I had never experienced something with as much of a rush and equal amount of pain as this.

He pushed it further, then followed that movement with pulling it out and sticking it somewhere else.

I could not scream, or call for help - every ounce of strength I had was slowly whittling out me through that weapon, and I could not concentrate on anything else - especially the dead look the man had, as he twisted the metal in my body.

He knelt over my body, then he abandoned that weapon, in my favor for my neck, slowly gripping tighter and tighter.

I used my hands to pull the weapon from my body, keeping my eyes wide on his own, and it burned so much I thought the room would erupt into flames.

He was too concentrated on killing me by air, he hadn't noticed me pull his other use of killing me had clattered to the ground beside me. It was all I had left, so all my anger, all my fear, all the emotion these men had inflicted on me in such short a time made my fist curl around the handle.

Just as the edges of my view darkened, and blurred. As I could hear crackling just like a broken firework, I could now see the man's own weapon being repeatedly struck into his chest.

I was fire, and blood, as I kept going. Kept winning against this man.

But his loosening grip didn't give me back the strength it had taken.

I pushed his body beside me, making it land in a heap of nothing and I pushed my hands into the ground to back away from the bodies I had made and the two they had left for me.

They left Laura against the wall, with a rain pattern red travelling down the hollow of her neck.

I left James with a knife still in his eye, and holes where his heart could be curled into himself and closest to the door.

I left the second man not far, wide eyes, and smoke bellowing from his crown. Pieces of his personality, and what made him do this, scattered on the floor.

And the last man, the one who had bashed Laura's head against the wall, was still breathing on the ground just as I was, holding his wound tightly. Blood streamed past his knuckles and curled around his wrist.

Something on a canvas that would be so abstract, but on a body is an entirely different story.

I brought my back up to the wall, sitting closely to the corner as I review what I did. What I had done to survive. It was all so bad, and I felt happy I did it all.

Even if they had won, I had won better.

"You picked the wrong girl," my voice croaked, and I shouldn't have spoken because I hissed in extreme pain.

The gun which had once been held in my arms, before I was struck, and stabbed, and choked, was sitting not too far. So I reached over, letting my legs rest and my upper body lay down once more. I curled my hands around the strap, pulling it over.

I did not let him utter one more word, as the second bullet I would fire screamed more words than the pain he felt. And he stopped struggling, he stopped squirming, he stopped trying to live.

Because I had won this time.

I sighed heavily, whimpering, and crying - I let my hands feel the two open wounds on my front. I pressed firmly, feeling sweat drip down my back.

I didn't feel pain, it just felt like pressure; like being punched. The wounds were there, but not until I could feel the blood dripping over my nails and skin of my hand, did the pain really register in my head. Only until I looked down and let my eyes see the red did it hurt so bad, that I opened my mouth to breathe easier. My body lay on the ground, with blood pooling beside my waist, slowly making me paler.

My eyes closed against the cold that soon washed over me, and it was only then I could hear Daryl shout my name once more.


	59. thread

" _Daar buiten loopt een schaap..._ "

No one told me it would be this way. No one tells you these things, they don't even prepare you for it - the mere possibility. Not even what our once normal world had installed, but this one was much worse.

But I knew, and I know, this isn't the way it's supposed to be. This isn't the way it's supposed to be. Nobody is supposed to hurt this much, but I figured, it had to be someone. And it was me.

" _Een schaap met witte voetjes..._ "

My body felt like it weighed a thousand pounds, each breathe, inhale or exhale took more energy than it should have. And that gave me a clear sign that something was wrong.

" _Die drinkt zijn melk zo zoetjes._ "

Along with each word that escaped me, the ones taught by my father, I could hear Daryl and Rick still banging endlessly on the door. And I wished I could just get up and open it. But I was too busy trying to breathe.

I gritted my teeth, moving the arm beneath me to a better position, reaching out onto the floor with my palm downwards. My nails scratched the floor, as I tried to grasp some sense of leveling around me. Each muscle in my abdomen and upper body rippled under the pressure, and I felt the heat come over me, unlike before when cold was all I knew.

I did everything in my power to turn my body onto its front, hearing my own hoarse breath leave my lips in a guttural gasp.

Laying heavily on my wounds, I now used both arms, pushing my elbows into the floor and lifting my chin from the ground.

I must have looked, let alone felt, like those undead monsters we fought every day. The ones who, when we stared into what face they had left, all I saw was disparity and desperation.

I pulled forward, dragging the rest of my body across the floor, but my whole being protested as a squeak echoed in my ears, and I heard my own calls to stop and give up.

My body fell once again, onto the floor, and I turned my face to let my cheek press itself into the tiles below. Tears streamed downwards, trailing past the bridge of my nose, and onto the floor. It wet the surface, turning red as I pressed a light fingerprint into the pattern.

I gasped once and twice, playing with the fabric of my clothes to press it further into the blood that painted my front.

I couldn't exactly make out the words Daryl was saying, just that he said them so loud, I heard it knock against the metal door, along with his fists.

I whimpered, taking in my view of the bodies around me. I only took in air, continuously breathing in every half second. I could not breathe out, and I could feel my ribs caving in.

"Oh my-" a voice, much louder than the two behind the door, came from above me and I reached my free hand around the back of my body to try and shield away from anything coming.

Quick footsteps and deft hands came up my back and sides and I almost cried out in protest until it was all paired with a recognizable voice. "Jesus, Mar'."

"Gle-," I coughed, and used my hand I once used to shield myself, to frantically point at the door. "The door! The door!" My voice was high with desperation and worry.

Someone followed my orders, as Glenn kept beside me, moving the hair from my eyes.

T-Dog ran to the handle, pulling quickly and heavily until it threw itself open. I couldn't see properly, but the once shouting voices faded as the two men were given freedom.

"Laura?" I heard Harvey's tone fill with tears, and it only made me breathe in faster. To the point where my vision was blurring at the blinding point of panic.

"Oh my god!"

"What happened, wha-?"

"Marley, what... what?"

All voices fading into one question asking me what happened. What happened to Laura? What happened to these men? What happened to me?

"Marley, you need to breathe," Daryl's voice rose above all the others, and I searched wildly for his face but saw nothing.

Multiple ghosting hands came up to my back and head, trying to steady my lungs. It didn't suffice as my vision was still blurred, and it seemed that whatever I had inside me was slowly chipping away. Old walls put up, being torn down by the knife that had been in my gut.

"Marley? Marley? Are you listening? Mar?" Rick leaned close to the floor, coming into my view. "We're gonna flip you over, okay?"

"No," is all I could say, my throat clenching down. "N-"

"Yes," he affirmed gently, moving so he was ready to flip me onto my back. "We have to."

"It's gonna be okay, Marley," Glenn was on the other side of me. All voices that weren't the first I wanted to hear. I needed familiarity. Painstaking familiarity.

Something to anchor me down, pull me through the fog.

"No," I affirmed in my own voice, nudging weakly at the hands starting to move me. My knuckles hit Rick's arm in a pathetic pat, and I gritted my teeth as my body was being turned.

I yelped, my body jolting away like an old reflex I forgot I had. I felt trickles on my ribs, and whilst letting my eyes wander, I pressed firmly into my tender flesh.

A lot seemed to be going on around me, yet I had tunnel vision. Only focused on the minor details that seemed to set my mind on edge. Just on the brink, hanging by a single thread.

"Wha-" my words ended in a stuttered breath. "What's going on?" Two other hands quickly moved my own, raising my shirt from where it stuck to my skin. It peeled away, spilling redder as I continued pressing my hands down. I hissed, furrowing my brows to a point of buzzing noise to echo in my ear.

"Jesus."

"Oh my god."

"We need to move now. Glenn, keep your hands there. Will, your belt, now! Daryl! Daryl, listen!" Rick sounded desperate, and I could see his silhouette hovering above me. Fine lines at his edges glitched frantically, as he looked around at us all.

Glenn opened his palms widely on my abdomen, and I let out a haulted scream, squirming on the floor. "No-n-Glenn."

He leaned over, keeping his hands just as firm despite the tears of protest that rolled down my cheeks. I pressed my lips together, letting my arms fall.Glenn stuttered himself, not bothering to flick the hair falling in his eyes. "You're gonna be okay. Marley, you're gonna pull through. You have to."

Above all that, Rick's yelling voice. "Daryl! You need to listen! Get over here, and hold her hands!"

The harsh snap of leather came to my ears, and my eyes immediately turned to it, as Rick leaned on one knee with the piece of clothing between his hands. He brought the back of his hand to his forehead, wiping the sweat that accumulated there.

Sweat, blood, and sounds of panted breaths and small "no's" that left Harvey's lips. Harvey and Will stood side by side, letting Laura's body fall from their gaze. T-Dog stood at the entrance to the room, glancing anxiously back and forth between me and the outside.

I only noticed Daryl when he knelt at the foot of my head, reaching forward over my eyes and taking my slick hands in his own. Running gentle movements over the top of my hands, and knuckles. I looked at them joined together, like paint brushing canvas, overflowing water, the last words that rain utters falling to the ground. I didn't understand.

I swallowed heavily.

"Sit her up; slowly," Rick said softly, touching a hand over where Glenn pressed firmly. And I almost felt the minuscule vibration on my spine, shocking up my senses.

"No, no, no, no," I sounded pathetic and small, moving my arms to shield away from all around me. But Daryl grasped them gently, folding them over my chest as he shuffled forward on his knees to sit me up.

I sunk into his hold, hiding my running nose and teary face in his sleeve. I kicked out my legs, trying to fend myself from the hurt that strung itself through my veins. Trudging unevenly through each nerve and sense I never thought I had.

Something snaked around my waist and came together over my open wounds. I gripped Daryl's arms tightly, suddenly knowing how much pain I was about to be in. Daryl did his best to keep me still, and I could feel his uneven breath fan across my neck. The belt closed in, and I closed my eyes as it seemed to take an eternity to tighten itself around my ribs.

"I'm sorry," Rick yelled, tears and regret evident in his voice as I kicked out blindly like a child being dragged somewhere they really didn't want to go. All these things, I did not want. I did not want to hurt so much.

There's no presumptuous warning to it... unless you do it to yourself.

It finally wrung tight, and I let my mouth open wide with a haunting and desperate scream - speaking calls for help, and mercy in a thousand languages. An ancient calling all humanity recognizes as being extremely bad.

Daryl pressed his chest tightly to my back, my shoulders fitting in his hunched stance over my smaller body.

Rick clipped the belt, letting the item seem to hold whatever I had left together. Like a falling structure, crumbling in all the places you weren't holding onto enough.

"C'mon," Rick instructed, and I could only just hear him above the ringing in my ears. It left me disoriented and foggy, and I felt like I was about to throw up everything that was inside me. An overbearing sensation holding all control I had earned this past year, at bay. "T-Dog, get to the cars, drive ahead. Harvey, Will, go with him!" All men jumped into action, gathering their bags and weapons to leave.

I shook and jolted in a warm, relentless hold. It held me close, and steady. I could feel the anxiety pumping through his blood as his hands didn't hold even over my arms. The fact that he didn't say a single word assured me he was nervous, and unable to comprehend the situation just as much as my view blurred. No words left me.

As they left, it turned into hushes - like the three people left were scared to say something that could potentially hit too hard.

"Let's go!" Rick waved over to himself, and the arms around me moved. Daryl kept a palm spread across the small of my back as his other hand went under my knees. With a low noise, he lifted me from the cold ground - against his chest in a quick, swift motion. It left me almost breathless as I let his grip embrace me.

In the corner of my eye, I watched them run. Down narrow corridors, all shining with hard tiles, paper, and trash strewn over the walls and ground like a forgotten art project. Everything blurred into one big riddle, creating lines in my eyes like dark fallen stars.

Each time Daryl ran a step, it sent shockwaves through his legs to his arms to my body, and each time I gripped his jacket harder and squeaked through my lips. Each time, I yelped helplessly like a small broken animal.

I had lost our sense of direction, especially when the light of outside blinded me suddenly. I turned into Daryl's neck, closing my eyes tightly. I felt my heart thump heavily, unsteadily, and slow. Much different to my lungs, which seemed to race at a worrying pace.

"Get in!" Glenn's voice was powerful in the empty parking lot, and I glanced at the stained ground where the other car used to be - now gone, as T-Dog, Harvey, and Will. It was only then I realized, we had left Laura's body in that place.

I let my head fall, looking past Daryl's shoulder and to the doors of the shopping centre; seeming to give a goodbye to the girl with too much emotion for someone who was incapable of giving it back.

The interior of the car was now my view. The felt ceiling and torn chairs, and my neck fell limply against Daryl's shoulder. I watched as he sat, and Glenn helped pull my legs in the rest of the way. All my strength was whittling slowly, steadily, up my body and all to my thoughts. My brain running wild, as all it could do was think.

Daryl ran his hand over my knees, pulling me further towards him and moving in his seat to get me in a comfortable position. Glenn reached quickly over, running the old seatbelt over both our bodies that lay too close for it not to mean something.

The man, at the sound of the engine and multiple doors shutting, let his grasp slip over my arms, squeezing them in reassurance - for him or myself, I didn't know. The belt sat awkwardly around me, sticking into all that fell from me, and I could almost taste the leather tainted blood slip up my throat.

He hadn't looked at me for even a moment, not directly, and I longed for his calming blue eyes. It was the only source of pain relief I knew would work in an instance. I swallowed my fear, basked in the steady rumble of the engine, and held tightly onto the hand Glenn had slipped between the seats.

I ignored the passing trees, it all being nothing but things I had seen before, wonderful natural colours running wild over the windows. I ignored the rushed breaths coming from all our mouths, including mine.

"Daryl," I whispered, tugging lightly on his sleeve. He took a moment to blow out a breath of air. He avoided the red, the utter suffering that dripped from my skin, just as much as the blood did. "Just look at me... please. Daryl." I kept my voice at the lowest decibels like these words only belonged to him, and not even to me.

He finally flicked his eyes to mine, every feature of him shook. A delicate glance, guarded and worried beyond belief. And I was sure I could see tears, being held tightly inside him, behind the blue. His hair was getting long, becoming his mask for structure. Becoming his shield against showing all his emotions.

I just kept looking at him, he followed my request, keeping himself turned towards me so I could take in all that he was. A big mess... just like me.

"Daryl," I quietly started, my bottom lip wobbled. "I'm sorry."

He didn't need to say anything, not a word, but only made his head shake lightly, a determined and almost angered expression.

"You didn't need to look after me," Glenn's hand was still in mine, and it squeezed at my words. "But you did - and I fucked up so bad. I fucked up so much, Daryl."

"... I'm sorry I fucked up."

His word was short and hard. "Stop."

I ignored him, tugging on his sleeve again. "You need to forget about me... but-" I choked, and coughed. "I don't want you to." My mind was surprisingly calm, like a heartbeat was in my brain, steadily clicking to a universal beat. "I'm sorry-'m so sorry."

"Marley," Glenn leaned over the passenger seat, but I didn't look at him, instead, watching Daryl glance over at my friend. "You're gonna make it okay. You've been through the worst shit - and you're still here. You're amazing. You've pulled through everything, and come out the other side. You're not... going now."

I fluttered my lashes at Daryl, waiting for his eyes to come back to my own. And when he did, I shook my head in the smallest ways. "You-... I don't know."

Rick slammed on the breaks, and I heard the high sound of the wheels sliding on the ground. More sounds echoed, and bounced around, and they were all there to potentially distract me. But I kept my eyes on Daryl, glancing around each every single feature, trying to map them out in memory. Him being the centre, surrounded by nothing but fogged glass. Frosted over and having a warm, blue centre.

The door next to us opened, and I gritted my teeth as I was once again moved, moving my hand to grip the nape of Daryl's neck.

He must have moved like lightning, because we were in the corridor of the house in one moment, and the next we were in a bedroom. My shoes knocked against the frame of the door, and I looked around to more faces.

Maggie kneeled on the other side of the bed, hands gripping the thin sheets. Hershel stood on the near side. There was Carol, Glenn, T-Dog, Rick. And then there was me, coming towards the bed like a piece of meat. And I couldn't help the loud yell I let out, as the springs stuck into my back and the belt dug deeper into my side. A makeshift tourniquet that pained me in more ways than I could imagine.

Something set into action amongst them all, busy helping hands and argumentative voices lifted above me. Floating over all I could see, the faint patterns on the wall catching my eyes. Tears I should have shed a long time ago, accumulating on the sheets. Maggie brushed the hair and wetness from my cheeks, gathering her warm palms over my ears.

Until Hershel reached for the belt, and the slightest movement his hand made sent me spiralling into a panic. Yelling out and staring wide-eyed, around me, becoming hysterical and manic. Maggie and Glenn reached for my shoulders. All these people I knew suddenly feeling like utter strangers. All of them shouting my name, and it sounded wrong. Hands reaching to steady me, to hold me down.

I screamed loud into the air, shouting words. "Please! Don't hurt me! Plea- don't hurt me. Don't hurt me please!" My throat expelled harrowing sounds and the taste of blood. Staining my teeth with terror on the way over.

The hands pushed me down, sending me to the bed in a jolt. Like one of electricity. Dark, painful electricity. All faults, in one movement, all thoughts, flushed with shock.

And I thought, in a gasp, I could close my eyes briefly once more. My chin tilted upwards, neck hanging my heavy head over the edge of the surface. At the brink of the break, hanging by a tiny thread. Once more, I was losing myself, letting all I was go downwards.

I felt like the world was letting me go...  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


and the world let her go.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


Daryl stood there, noticing, as no one else did. How her pink features started fading. The tip of her nose that once glowed, it turned bleak. But she didn't look like someone who no longer drew breath. She didn't look like his worst nightmare.

And that was the worst thing about - she still looked like Marley.

No uneven cries, shaking hands, eyes that drew him in like the draw of a bow. Efficiently dangerous and alluring.

Pretty girl; vicious mind.

This was not his pretty girl with fire in her veins, the one who forced him open. The one who practically dug around his heart, and presented a glow he had never seen before. Northern lights had nothing on her soul, showing more colours each day. Of red, and gold, and green, and so much red. Now so much it stained him too. Pinpointing was not an option.

She was his ambiguous creature, one who was nocturnal and breathed intoxicating sweetness. One he had tasted before.

So this was not his Marley, and he clenched his fists at his side. He almost let his legs collapse beneath himself, before seeing Glenn's come to grab her face and call out her name. A crying plea, into something that would not reply. No deity could remake this girl.

This was not his Marley, yet it was exactly her, and that was the problem.

One he couldn't face, as he turned his eyes over his shoulder. He turned on his heels, hearing nothing but her name from those people's lips - no way they could say it the way he did.

The forest came into view, as he reached the lip of the front door.

He made it so he could not see, or hear whatever she was, out there.  
  



	60. days gone bye

The crunch of leaves beneath his feet was all he could sense. The sharp hollow sound, echoing up his body. Playing on the strings of his brain, plucking effortlessly and annoyingly.

With that, he could hear his own breaths rushing past his lips in a panicked rhythm. He couldn't focus on making them steady, he couldn't really focus on anything at all.

He came past trees, broken branches, sounds of the outside. Everything that used to seem more like home than anything else, suddenly felt like an intimate stranger.

He rose his hands to brush past fallen twigs, high grass, horizontal obstacles.

He choked out, lifting his wrists up, seeing red paint his arms. The red that came from her he almost fell to his knees at the sight of it.

He felt weak, and stupid, and goddamn helpless. And somehow, he didn't find that wrong in any way.

If course he felt this way. Of course he felt weak, stupid, and goddamn helpless. It was a given.

You couldn't just get to know her and get on with your life.

He tried desperately to move faster, rushing faster and faster, letting his blind blurring eyes guide him away from all that she left him with.

And his feet eventually led him out of the maze, and into an opening. One he nearly tumbled into what he found.

No longer the sound of his rushing lungs, or the ground beneath his feet. But now the sound of water filled his ears, the steady flow like the beat he felt against his skin in those last moments.

His hands pressed against her skin, so calm, so worryingly slow, so painfully steady. The flow of blood was cold, it was there, it turned electric under his touch.

He remembered the way she felt, pressed up against him, and that's what he held onto.

Collapsing to the ground, at the brink of the river, he dove his hands into the icy water. In a rushing stance, he painstakingly scratched his skin, tore at the colour. He ripped it away like the pages of a book.

And he still looked at it, eyes wide and teary, trying to rush all sense of her being gone, away.

His infatuation was pure, untainted, clear as day. Clear as how much storm you could see in her eyes. The brown specks, hidden behind clouds of green.

But it's long lived, it's driven, it's more than one second of "oh... it's her". It's a constant battle of knowing if your truly know everything about her, and if you know enough to even enter beneath her chains.

Like she has hooks, dug into his skin, a blessing, and a curse. Full of painful beauty, he had never seen before.

How unconventional. This broken girl, so many cracks, missing pieces, bound by darkness and cynical threats. But also so loving, so loyal, so determined.

There was something alluring about her, he couldn't touch upon it. And he remembered how Laura had put it; "Marley, you make people get real close to you."

Nothing of her own intention, just something that happened. A hanging light that hovered over her, you stepped too close, you would most likely be engulfed in flames. Ones that hurt so good, you couldn't help but come back for more.

All in all; Marley was addictive. Maybe not the true meaning of the word, but whenever falling was an option around her, gravity didn't seem to exist.

He had fallen many times.

Daryl kept at the water, splashing around and taking it up to his chest, letting out a low noise as he struggled to keep the red from touching him once more.

Once it wailed the dark colour, and rose further into the water, he stood and backed away. Like touching her blood was fatal electricity.

He had been holding his breath, and he hadn't realised, so he finally breathed out - leaning against the rough bark of a tree.

He turned on his heel, seeing something not entirely there.

_"Daryl?"_

_The man turned away from the fire, fiddling with the stray_ _branch_ _between his hands. The small croaky voice caught hid attention, and he_ _averted_ _his eyes towards it._

_She was on the ground of their camp, small but enough for them. She emerged from a cocoon of_ _multiple_ _blankets he had_ _collected_ _for her. She had been getting_ _certainly_ _cold lately, and he did his best to do_ _what_ _he thought she would_ _want_ _._

_Marley had tired, bleary eyes. Opening only slightly to look at with a_ _question_ _on her features._

_"What?" He asked_ _abruptly_ , _letting his shoulders slump._

_She looked_ _fearfully_ _, then uttered even more small words. "I have to-" her words fell short, looking down in embarrassment._

_"_ _Fine_ _," he sounded annoyed, and Marley recoiled at_ _his_ _tone. And he noticed that, so he waved a hand over in his direction, reassuring her there was nothing wrong._

_She untangled herself from the_ _multiple_ _fabrics,_ _standing_ _in her old shoes. She wrapped her arms around herself, shielding the cold away from her thin shirt and torn jeans._

_This was not a night she found comfort in the cold_ _and_ _stripped_ _as much as possible. Revealing_ _skin_ _Daryl was_ _sure_ _had to be legal._

_Most people_ _wouldn't_ _be bothered by the sight, might be interested in what_ _else_ _she had, but the man almost fell at the_ _small_ _part of her thighs and knees those jeans revealed._

_She walked beside him, matching his pace amongst the dark forest._

_Once they came to a secluded place, Daryl turned his back._

_But it_ _didn't_ _last long, as she_ _didn't_ _approach the open space, in that_ _moment_ _her movements halted._ _He_ _turned to see what she was looking at, and spotted the_ _dark_ _figure approaching._

_"C'mon," he spoke quickly_ _and_ _softly, holding out his hand._ _She rushed towards him, taking his fingers in her own as he leads her back in the_ _direction_ _of their camp and back to Merle._

_And then when they nearly made it, another approached and all he could do was back up and turn her around to be behind him._

_They_ _backed up_ _towards a tree, and he pushed her_ _lightly_ _so she pressed up against it. He leant an_ _elbow_ _over her_ _head_.

 _He held a finger_ _gently_ _against her lips,_ _making sure her body_ _didn't_ _move_ _an inch as he watched the_ _silhouettes_ _slowly pass._

Daryl didn't see it, all he did was feel it. The splitting of his skin, and the eventual flow of blood from his knuckles. He watched the bark crush beneath his hand, and let out a breath.

He almost growled, angry, annoyed, frustrated and tearful.

He felt one hang on the brink, and he furiously wiped his eyes backing away from the scenery.

He didn't have his crossbow, and he looked around worryingly but saw no danger in sight.

He felt the need to run back and see her again, but the eventuality of going back to that house was enough for him to nearly break down.

He collapsed to the ground once again, not bothering to ease the scrapes that run up his back and legs.

Daryl felt like a lost child again, out in the woods, not knowing where the hell he was going.

Travelling on a never ending circle in a poison car, each step less taken, each one less travelled by without her was painful.

Pins and needles ran up his legs, and he swore under his breath of the complexities laying under his skull right now.

She had asked for him to forget her, maybe because she knew of those complexities. The minute she drew breath around him, he was a goner. Forever going to be caught in a hurricane that is all her doing.

And he tried to think what it would be like if she was still here.

There was nothing in his head he could recreate. You don't try and do it. The mere imagination of this girl could split atoms, and rupture thunder.

But he could remember.

He could remember the way her hands ran up his waist, the way she tucked beneath him. The way their held gaze would do things to him he never thought existed.

And he looked up to the sky, ignoring the numbing cold sensation in his hands. To some sort of higher power. One he had never believed in. Some sort of anything that could make him feel any better. It's too cold for him here, it seemed to whisper back. The air is too cold unless she clutches you tightly. Unless she holds you close, wraps her arms around his neck. Unless you can feel her heart against your own chest.

He had hated himself. He had wanted to hurt himself. He had wanted all those things in his life, and Marley was the same - if not worse.

He had never met anyone who had hated themselves so much.

And he never thought he would meet anyone like her, by mere chance.

He looked down from above him, almost tearing the hair from his head. Rising from the ground and kicking it angrily, he almost hit the tree again.

Instead, he tore himself from everything around him. And he tried to remember.

All those nights when she had a small voice, when she spoke of times he didn't seem to care about till now. Now he relished those words she spoke. Only to him - only ever to him.

It was like they were golden secrets, and he could never tell anyone else to things she said. He didn't think he was capable of recreating the sentences she had said, in the way she said them.

He hadn't noticed, but he had started walking. Going back to the house even though he didn't want to. He really didn't want to go back and possibly see her again.

To see them deal with it like they had dealt with so many people in the past. With Merle he was lucky. Merle was just gone.

But Marley, she was there. She was laying on that bed with her soft features and eyes closed, almost sleeping when she was his worst nightmare right now.

Daryl had had many nightmares in his life. This was one he wished he had before, just to prepare at least. Just to find his grounding in a situation like this.

To figure out how he would... mourn.

He soon came to an opening in the trees, looking on at the house, and almost screaming his lungs raw to try and flush all the horrible feelings he had inside. But he stayed silent, biting the inside of his cheeks just to give himself something else to think about.

A different kind of pain.

Anything other than excruciating.

He hit the ground each step he took, a defiant chant in his blood. He refused to believe that _the_ Marley was gone from this world.

He knew she had more to offer. She had more soul inside her than anyone he had ever met, and when he saw what scars she had, it was like all she held inside was lightning. Burning hot under he skin, and it somehow cracked.

There were two people on the porch, and something inside him made a sliver of hope. The sick twisted kind, he knew Marley hated.

He wasn't used to it.

He wasn't used to knowing such things about anyone.

He wasn't used to knowing her favourite colour is blue, or her favourite play is Macbeth, or she's scared of dogs, loves ice-cream, lost her parents, burnt her childhood home down, has a lost brother, hates wearing socks to bed, clenches her fists before firing a gun, has been sick, has bled, has hated herself, has wanted to die; all these things made her, and now what was he supposed to do with all this in his head.

He rose high on the porch steps, jogging quickly and swiftly. He masked his face, dropping all the hurt he felt from his skin because he couldn't stand to let anyone see him like this.

He still felt her blood on his hands. He still felt her pressed up against him. Like she was a ghost hanging over each sense he possessed.

He looked to the left, where those people he spotted sat. Glenn and Carl together, holding each other with matching marks on their cheeks.

He felt like he should be that way too. The looks on their faces were as permanent to him as the scars on his back. Cutting deep, ripping, burning. Jagged marks both inside and out.

And then he realised, as he stared at them both - it didn't matter.

All the pain he felt, all the sorrow. Going through those woods and selfishly wanting her back. It was bad and it didn't matter.

Because... however he felt, she was still dead.

 

 


End file.
